


This is a kissing book

by dutchmoxie



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Fillory (The Magicians), Happy Ending, Inspired by Princess Bride, M/M, Quentin Coldwater Lives, Story within a Story, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: A goddess reads a story to an injured traveler as he waits for his girlfriend to return from a mission. It’s a tale of true love, of peaches and plums, of pirates and fencing and magic and inconceivably daring escapes from a Dark King. The goddess is shocked to find out that when the traveler says “shut up”, what he really means is: “I’m having all the feels”.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37
Collections: Magicians Happy Ever After





	This is a kissing book

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [death cannot stop true love (it can only delay it for awhile)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342158) by [kazzashepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzashepard/pseuds/kazzashepard). 



> So, this is the Magicians fic I've been working on for... ages now.  
> The timeline might be a bit... whatever, since I've never seen s5 and I don't intend to. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I know William Goldman would roll his eyes at this, but I think that might be alright.  
> Thanks to the incredibly talented Liz, whose art single-handedly allowed me to finish this even when I was at my most blocked. Seriously, check out the art - it's my dream come true. 
> 
> (And as always, my love to my squad, my girls who've been listening to me talk about this for months and haven't gotten sick of it)

“I’m going to tell you a story,” Julia said, opening up a thick, heavy tome that Fogg would have creamed himself over if he’d set eyes on it. 

The book wasn’t dusty, which was a good thing, since Lipson was going to murder them both if they brought any more dangers to her metaphorical doorstep. She was already less than thrilled anytime they showed up - and it was worse when they showed up needing her help. Sure, Lipson had put him back together, but she hadn’t been happy about it. 

It wasn’t like Penny was thrilled that his return to the land of the living nearly killed him. 

“A story about the most beautiful man in the world,” Eliot immediately had to interject. 

He’d probably shown up just to say it. Penny could have sworn he hadn’t been there until that very second. And he was pretty damn aware of his surroundings - even though Eliot was pretty good at keeping his shields up. Coldwater was probably the only one who was still shit at it. 

Julia rolled her eyes at Eliot, which was just one of the many reasons why she’d basically been a goddess all along. “You have better things to do than to annoy Penny. Just let me tell the story the right way. The true way. Without your snarky interruptions.” 

Was she seriously implying that this ridiculously long tale had actually happened? And that she was going to tell him the entire fucking thing? Because while he was definitely injured, and he wasn’t supposed to leave the infirmary on pain of death, he’d honestly rather die than listen to some boring historical novel. If he’d been interested in any of that crap, he’d turn into fucking Coldwater. And just… no fucking way. 

“Once upon a time,” Julia started, and Penny groaned loudly. 

Was she really going to pretend that this was some kind of fairy tale? Only nerds and children liked those kinds of stories, and Penny wasn’t either of those. He half expected this to be another one of Julia’s attempts to get him into those stupid Fillory books. And he’d been pretty clear, that was not going to happen. 

Not even if Kady asked him to. And that was saying a lot. 

“Really?” Penny had to ask. “You’re going to read the entirety of some boring book to me?” 

Sure, it was going to be awhile until Kady was back, but this book was big and boring and Penny didn’t mind Julia as much as he did some others, but this was a lot of presumption. His only response to shit like that had always been to dig his heels in and be even more of an asshole about things. Just ask Coldwater. 

“It’s not boring,” Julia argued a little too vehemently. “It’s got a bit of everything. Fencing, torture, adventure, puzzles, magic, giants, monsters, daring escapes. True love…” 

Okay, some of those bits didn’t actually sound too bad, but the whole true love thing? Yeah, that was the kind of bullshit Penny didn’t really care for. It was too much of a fairy tale, and even though they’d met actual fairies, true love was the thing that Penny called bullshit on. That was where the line was. He could handle the fairies and the dragon eggs and the alternate universes and the magical flying ships and the talking animals and all of that, but not true love. That was fake news. 

“I’ll try and stay awake,” Penny was not optimistic about this story of Julia’s. 

“Shut up, Penny,” she continued. “As I was saying…. Once upon a time, in a magical land far away from here, there existed a magical cottage. Isn’t that a wonderful beginning?” 

Was she actually asking him? Because she had to know what kind of answer she was getting to that, right? Julia knew him better than that by now. She had to. 

“The best,” he said, not even trying to avoid the sarcasm. 

“Shut up, Penny.” 

He shut up as prompted, and waited for whatever else she needed to tell him. It was going to be a long day, probably, and he’d been counting the hours until Kady’s return before. 

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. 

The best thing about Kady (or, one of the best things) was that he didn’t have to say stuff for her to understand what he meant. She just did, and she didn’t want to talk about all the sappy stuff either (“fuck no”, she’d probably say), and so they managed to avoid most of that bullshit while still being happy. Heck, he’d come back from the dead (for her). 

That didn’t require words of love, now did it? Actions, that was where it was at. 

“The magical cottage had seen better days,” Julia’s voice started up again, and it was honestly kind of soothing, “but it was home to a very important thing: a garden with stacks upon stacks of tiles. It was home to the beauty of all life.”

Penny was going to fucking hurl. Did Lipson leave him with a bucket? 

* * *

Once upon a time, in a magical land only known in books just like this one, there was a cottage in the middle of the woods. It may not have looked like anything special, and truthfully, the cottage itself was nothing outstanding. The roof leaked when it rained - or at least it did when they first showed up - and when the winds gained speed, they made a ghastly sound trying to rip the house from where it stood. 

Inside there were just two rooms - and in a cottage like this, having separate rooms was a luxury known to few, if at all. The second room was small, it could even be called tiny, but it held the greatest treasures known to the cottage’s inhabitants: it held the food. 

So really, nothing special was best used to describe the place, until one considered the grounds surrounding the small building. In particular, something that could have been called a garden, if the person describing it was particularly generous. There was enough room to perhaps grow some herbs and vegetables, and perhaps even fruit if the climate granted it - but the true magic lay in a simple square area near the cottage. 

The locals told tales of this magical square, of the puzzle that was to be solved with the stacks upon stacks of tiles, and of the many heroes who’d already given it a try. None had succeeded, it seemed. Because how did one show the beauty of all life with just a seemingly random selection of colored tiles? What did the beauty of all life even look like? 

No one had the answer. And it seemed that no one would. 

When the strangers came, the two young men in their strange clothes, no one in the land noticed, at first. It took quite awhile for people to pass by the cottage, but one day, a young lady, carrying sweet, ripe fruit found herself at the cottage. She was surprised to find that two young men had seemingly taken up residence there. 

The men were kind to her, even as they argued about colors and tiles and getting used to their new circumstances. They appreciated her plums, but the peaches were a true favorite with both men. There was much teasing about them, from one man to another, something the young woman did not always understand. She cared for them regardless. 

As time passed, the girl learned more about the men, and their quest to complete the puzzle. You see, they told her, it was their only chance to bring back magic to their world, a world so far away from the world the young woman knew. In their world, animals did not talk, not a single word, but there was magic of a different kind, the magic of technology. The young woman could not understand something she had never seen, but she was happy to believe in it, and happy to visit the men and hear their tales. In the summer, she spent nights in the cottage. 

It was on one of those nights that love created a whole new magic. Perhaps it was not the beauty of all life, but it was the beauty of one life. A fragile new life, born from that young woman on a warm summer’s day. A new life that was given the name Theodore, but who was known as Teddy by all who held him dear. 

And Teddy was a lucky boy, a happy child, close with all three of his parents. He gurgled and made a mess of everything, and he distracted them all from the puzzle. 

No one blamed him for that, but the men occasionally tried their hand at blaming each other, whenever they were angry and frustrated. Neither really wanted to leave, neither wanted to go back to a life without their son, and without their lady. They mourned friends they worried they’d never see again, but they went on. And life went on. 

The puzzle went unsolved, and for a while there were no more attempts. Not after they lost their lady and three parents became two. The men, the farm boys, struggled to explain to Teddy where his mother had gone. Typical, how it was easier to explain talking animals and vegetarianism than… death. 

Somehow, the men dragged themselves back to their puzzle, to try some of the many combinations that they had not yet tried. The mosaic was too big, there were too many options for them to complete, even if they did nothing but this for the next five years. But they had a son, and they had a life, and they had the fruits they enjoyed so much. 

So they went on, they persevered and tried - always taking time away to share a piece of fruit with their son. 

And what they discovered was that whenever the one said “peaches”, and the other said “and plums”, what they were truly saying is “I love you” and “I choose you”. 

* * *

“Are you for real right now?” Penny had to interrupt. “Are you really reading me a romance novel right now? What the hell makes you think I wanna hear that?” 

Look, could he just go back to when he thought this was a boring historical book with lots of dry facts? Because that was the better option here. This was starting to sound a whole lot like one of those regency romances that he’d never looked at, with the heaving bosoms and the stupid misunderstandings that would have been solved if people just communicated. 

Though, polyamory - even though it was just hinted at - wasn’t really a staple in novels like the Duke’s Debutante, or whatever that filth was called. 

But if this was the first chapter, and Penny was pretty damn sure that they hadn’t gotten all that far into the book, there was no way that the happiness would last. That or he was due for thousands of pages of flowery description of the love these idiots shared, and really. Just, no, he’d done the whole library thing, and he’d seen things (or, to be more accurate, read things) that he could never unsee or unread. He was not going to let Julia make it worse - he’d rather die of boredom before Kady got back. 

Okay, maybe he didn’t actually want that. He’d been waiting ages to see her again, and have it be real, not because of a stupid key. To have her in front of him, actually, really. 

“For once in your life,” Julia wasn’t giving up yet, apparently, “have a little patience. We’ll get to the pain and the torture and the magic. I know those are your favorite parts. God forbid you’d like a little romance in your life.” 

It wasn’t like he liked the torture bits - he wasn’t actually a sadist. But he honestly would rather hear tales of adventure and magic and danger, and beating an evil villain than hearing more of this love shit. Was that so bad? 

“I’m fine with a  _ little _ romance,” Penny made sure to emphasize the word little. 

Julia actually laughed at him. “I’ll let Kady know. I don’t think she’s aware of that.” 

Maybe he’d changed his mind, he didn’t like Julia at all, she’d clearly been infected with Coldwater’s lameness. That was just what happened after years of friendship. 

Though, he hadn’t seen Coldwater once since he’d woken up back at Brakebills - and while they still weren’t friends, it was weird. Coldwater was the kind of idiot who was going to visit just to be a nice guy, and Penny had been looking forward to kicking him out. 

Yeah, that was what this was. He was disappointed that he didn’t have the chance to annoy Coldwater while he was laid up. 

“Shut up.” 

* * *

Years passed, and the men grew old and cranky, and Teddy grew into a strapping young man who wanted to see more of the world than the woods surrounding the cottage he’d grown up in. So the day came that he said goodbye to his fathers, with no regrets. Or perhaps there were a few regrets, thoughts of uncles and aunts Teddy had not yet met, and would not meet if he was not to ever come back. But most of all, the men were happy still, albeit worried. 

The men grumbled as they said farewell, and then argued some more as they tried to arrange the tiles into yet another configuration that was not going to show them the beauty of all life. The quest seemed doomed to fail, and yet they continued to try, for the friends they’d long since left behind. They’d stay here once they’d solved it, one of the men had decided, and the other had readily agreed. They were old men now, they said, they deserved to finish out their lives together, and watch Teddy grow old, watch him become a father as well. 

They wondered what it would be like to become grandfathers, to have the house filled with a child’s laughter again. They wondered what it would be like if their friends found a way to return magic to the world, and returned to find them both as old men. They wondered about a lot of things, but there was one thing they always seemed to be certain of: they loved each other, and they were not going to be separated ever again. 

While the actual three words were never spoken - these idiot men and their idiot concerns about saying it first, their old friend would have said - they managed to find a short-hand for it that worked equally well, and encapsulated all the things a thousand words could not have described perfectly. 

Just three little words. 

“Peaches,” one would say. 

And the other would reply, “and plums.” 

With those three words, everything was clear. They did not need to say anything, did not need to talk about feelings so openly. That was just… gauche. Also known as vulnerable and terrifying, and neither of the men thought of themselves as brave. 

Still, they became grandfathers, they grew old together without ever saying three words other than “peaches” “and plums”. They heard a child’s laughter echo through their cottage, and they never solved that damn puzzle together, even though they never stopped trying. Even when there was just one man left, old and sad and lonely and broken-hearted. 

It was not until he buried his love that he found the missing tile, the only useful tile. The golden tile that proved they’d found the beauty of all life - by living it. It was bittersweet, but the old man somehow managed to go on, sending the missing key - the one thing it had all been about - to his friends, wherever and whenever they were. 

His friends saved him right back. And through the magic of the key, through the magic of the thread of time being spun and unspun, he was young again, his friend by his side. And the cottage had never really been theirs, because the past had been rewritten. None would remember the life never lived, except… 

“Peaches,” one tried, in a mostly empty throne room. 

“And plums,” the other felt a flood of memories washing over him. 

Memories of moments that had never happened, of a love that had never had years and years to blossom, of fifty years spent together. Of proof of concept, of knowing something was going to work before they had ever truly pretended to give it a go. 

So one of the men dared to ask, dared to be vulnerable. 

But it was not to be, as it was seemingly easier to love when there was truly no one else. When there were reasons to worry about being a second choice, about not being enough. About love not being true. And suddenly it mattered that the words had never been spoken, that there had been other people in their lives before they went on this half-remembered adventure. 

Suddenly there were other matters to take into account. 

By the time they both realized this merited a chance at least, it was too late. The monstrous creature named the Dread Pirate Roberts had already torn them apart. And this time, there was no way to respin the thread of time to undo a death. This time, it was permanent. 

Or was it? 

* * *

“Of course it wasn’t,” Penny rolled his eyes. “This would be an even shittier book than it already is if this was where this ridiculous story ended. I’m sure there’s a twist or a happily ever only… eight-hundred pages away from us? How long is this thing, anyway?” 

It seemed as if they had barely started, and the heavy tome Julia was still holding onto definitely supported that. It seemed as if they were barely a few pages into the tale, which many, many chapters left - and Penny was going to hurt someone (probably himself, by running away from this damn room) if those remaining pages were all as soppy and dramatic as the first few had been. He groaned, loudly, just to make sure Julia knew how terrible this was. 

“It’s an epic,” Julia pointedly avoided giving him an actual answer. “Four years later, there was a new ruler in the magical land. A long dormant member of the Royal Family, King Rupert had…” 

Wow, the King sounded like a total dork. A dormant member of the Royal Family of a magical land? Named Rupert of all things? Honestly, the jokes were myriad and Penny already had about a dozen of them up his sleeves for whenever the story got annoying again. 

But first….

“Rupert?” 

“Shut up, Penny,” Julia just kept reading. “King Rupert had been trapped in a sleep spell, and now that he had woken up, he had assumed his position on the throne. Out of respect for the new group of Earth’s children, he offered to marry their King, making him a real Prince in the eyes of the people. And the new Prince, still in mourning and hoping the King would help him find the monstrous pirate who’d taken his love, he accepted.” 

The emphasis on the monstrous bit was probably a bit too pointed, so clearly it was a clue that Penny was meant to decipher at some point. But his memories were still a bit… off due to the whole being dead thing, so he honestly had no idea what the story wanted him to put together. 

Okay, maybe he had some idea, but he really wanted to be wrong. 

“The King has terrible taste in men,” Penny had no words for just how terrible it was. “Which, since his name is Rupert… It’s not even surprising.” 

If the idea in his head had any bearing on reality, that made the King’s taste in men even more awful. He’d been rolling his eyes at the first bit, but the idea of multiple people being interested in that idiot? That was really stretching all boundaries of credibility, really. But maybe it was artistic license or whatever. That was a thing people did in these kinds of stories, right? 

Artistic license was definitely not a thing in the Library. 

Thinking of the Library was never a good thing - he wished more of the details were clear of what his friends were up to during Penny’s mostly involuntary stint in the Library. Even though those memories were probably going to suck - they were better than the Library’s lies. Those lies were what had kept him from his friends, from Kady. 

“I can go,” Julia threatened. 

Penny was not going to let her win so easily. “Can you? Or did you promise those idiots that you’d keep an eye on me until Kady got back?” 

So the story pretty much sucked. But just sitting here, brooding like he was some kind of angsty hero from a teen novel? Worse. Way, way worse. 

Not that he’d ever admit that to Julia - or anyone. Maybe Kady. If she ever got here. 

“I never expected you to blackmail me into continuing to read to you,” Julia was not backing down without a fight, of course. “But if you’re that into the story, I suppose I can keep going.” 

He really, really wasn’t. But protesting was only going to make it worse - and it was making the story take for fucking ever. So maybe he could shut up, just this once. 

Until the next bullshit thing happened, of course. 

* * *

Four years later, there was a new ruler in the magical land. A long dormant member of the Royal Family, King Rupert had been trapped in a sleep spell, and now that he had woken up, he had assumed his position on the throne. Out of respect for the new group of Earth’s children, he offered to marry their King, making him a real Prince in the eyes of the people. And the new Prince, still in mourning and hoping the King would help him find the monstrous pirate who’d taken his love, he accepted. The Prince was rather desperate for revenge, still. 

While the Prince had many friends, there was only one who truly understood the pain that the Prince was going through. This brave woman had lost the love of her life when the lady was taken away from her by a cruel man she had never been able to find. 

The woman was driven by revenge and fueled by alcohol, and while she was a warrior at heart, not even the Prince could get past her hard, glossy armor. She was singularly dedicated to her one goal, but she had long since lost hope. Still, nothing could stop her from recovering the woman she loved from the mysterious six-fingered man (except maybe the drinking). 

But certainly not the Prince. Not when a Librarian in a fitted suit showed up and promised to help bring her love back to her if only she helped him kidnap the Prince and take him far away from the magical land. Sure, she was sad to betray the Prince - at least for a little while - but she was determined to find her love again. 

After all, she could always come back to save the Prince once she’d found her love. She’d been a High King once, and so had her love. They could defeat any man. 

So she followed the Librarian - not meekly, for she was no meek woman - but she followed him regardless, in the hopes he would lead her to her love eventually. They dragged the Prince along with them with the aid of magic - she was a fucking Magician, after all - and waited for the third member of their little… gang. Supposedly this person was incredibly intelligent and fierce and determined, which made the former High King a bit… disappointed when she saw this magnificent third person and recognized her immediately. 

The woman snorted. “Alice Quinn? How the hell did this moron rope you into this?” 

Her supposed old friend was not even dressed in the proper garb in this world, instead continuing to wear her tight sweater and short skirt combo that probably brought all the nerds to the yard. Alice looked at her through those same old glasses, and the former High King had to cut her off before the other woman could say something. 

“Honestly, I should have known,” she continued to speak, not even letting her supposed friend talk at all. “You have a history with these Librarians.” 

There were some issues there, some fights that had not yet gotten resolved, and probably would not be for the foreseeable future. Because the former High King could absolutely hold a grudge - and look fabulous doing it. She rocked the eyepatch, she could rock anything. 

“Oh, come off it, Margo,” Alice huffed. “I’m not here to betray you again.” 

Again, she said, because it had happened before. There had been a time, after the old men became young again on the mission that never actually happened, when Alice Quinn had betrayed her friends. They had had a chance to save the world, until she intervened, on behalf of the very institution that she was now once again siding with. 

“You’re just betraying  _ him _ ,” former High King Margo pointed to the Prince. 

“So are you,” Alice was not letting it go. “I have my reasons.” 

Presumably, both women had a very good reason for betraying their friend. The Librarian watched the confrontation with poorly hidden glee, but stayed silent. He was a very mysterious figure, a man without a name, someone who liked to have others do his dirty work. He was no Everett, but he was menacing enough regardless. This was the man behind the scenes, the man who was thinking many steps ahead of the women he had hired. 

For now, at least. 

“You always do,” was the response. 

That was the moment when the Prince finally woke up. 

“What is going on here?” The Prince looked around frantically, his worry easing slightly when he noticed the two women flanking him. “Did I drink too much? Wait, Alice?” 

The long-haired man turned to his friends, one at a time, waiting for one of them to give him an answer that he could live with. The librarian just continued to gloat from a distance, so the long-haired Prince probably had not even seen him yet. The man liked it that way - if he had his wish no one would recognize him at all. 

Suddenly the Prince sat up straight. “Did you kidnap me?” 

There was no response. Neither of the women had a satisfying answer to his question - all they had was a very straightforward yes that was only going to make the Prince look surprised and disappointed. And seeing as that Librarian was certainly not going to say anything unless he absolutely had to, the area remained perfectly silent. Outside the Prince’s heavy breathing, of course. He was still recovering from being knocked unconscious and waking up in a strange place - they were lucky that there was no blood, and no evidence had been left. 

Though they had to consider that the King, the supposed Dark King, could track them all using magic. And there was no way that the man was going to be very happy with the Prince’s supposed friends kidnapping him from Castle Whitespire without a word. There was no ransom demand, no note left - not that the former High King had known of, anyway - nothing but an empty space where the Prince should have been. 

An empty space that was going to get them all killed. 

“The king will kill you all,” the Prince’s voice turned dark, and then frantic. “I know that he will save me. And he will kill you. All of you. Why would you do this?” 

Still, he cared for his friends, even when they had taken him from the home he thought was safe. Sure, he’d shown he had faith in his fiance, but mostly the man seemed so very worried about his friends’ continued health and safety.

“You’re a good friend,” the former High King told him. 

She knew that she had failed him. 

* * *

The boat that the Librarian had arranged for certainly was no Muntjac. It was smaller, left them all out in the open and exposed to the elements, and it certainly did not have the magical component that allowed them to traverse even the wildest seas with relative ease at incredibly high speeds - not to the same extent, anway. Then again, this ship also was not headed straight towards the Infinite Waterfall. Surely, the Cliffs of Insanity were a much safer destination - even if it did not actually sound like there was anything good waiting for them there. 

The dark-haired woman who used to be a High King certainly was not expecting anything good from a place with that name, and she was starting to really hate this mysterious plan that she still had not gotten any details on. She doubted she would ever get the details, so she kept her blades close to her at all times, letting Sorrow and Sorrow speak for themselves. 

They usually did, after all. Not even the Librarian dared to get close to her while she was sharpening them, and she took pleasure in the sight. 

It had grown dark, the night sky making it almost impossible to see where they were going - but magic took care of that, surely. The Librarian seemed happy for it, as he’d been looking back and forth the entire trip, trying to see if someone was following them. The man still hadn’t spoken, but the dark-haired woman had noticed his repeated gesture. 

She had not commented on it yet, because knowledge was power. 

“I’d hate to be a buzzkill,” the blonde-haired woman started. 

“No, you really don’t,” her compatriot argued. “That’s what you live for.” 

There were some old hurts being brought up, because the women had never really seen eye to eye. They were too different, and too many things had happened for them to get along so easily, especially since the dark-haired woman still had not forgiven her friend for a previous betrayal - something big had to happen for her to do that. It did not seem like anything important was going to happen anytime soon, so the former High King gladly held her grudge close. 

“We’re being followed,” the blonde did not rise to the challenge. 

“Inconceivable,” was the first - and perhaps only - word the Librarian said that day. 

Truly, the idea that anyone from their Kingdom had already managed to track them this far was outlandish. It was honestly hard to believe that anyone had already noticed their Prince’s absence, seeing as he was prone to being incredibly hard to find when he chose to pout in a corner somewhere. They had only left Castle Whitespire behind a few hours ago, so there was no reason for anyone to be suspicious, not yet. 

“The boat is small,” the fair-haired woman scrunched up her eyes behind her glasses as she tried to get a closer look at their pursuant. “I believe it is just one man, dressed in black. I do not recognize him from here, but he is heading in the same direction we are.” 

No one was supposed to be traveling these waters, according to the information that the Librarian had gotten from his employer. Or his client, depending on what business model one subscribed to. And the Librarian would accept any business model if it kept him out of the spotlight and in possession of money and power. It was that simple. 

He did not wish to show how concerned he was, but both of the women were figuring out how to see through him. They were good at it, it was a skill that they had both always possessed, a skill they had honed over the last few years. They only needed to share a look to know. 

“I can handle one man,” the dark-haired woman scoffed. “I can handle more than one. Even if he does catch up to us, he will be no match for Sorrow and Sorrow.” 

Not even the blonde Magician could argue against that - the blades had been lethal to many a monster, or to the kind of men the former High King would refer to as dickweeds. She had quite a mouth on her, and some people would have called that her most dangerous weapon over the extremely sharp blades. Those people would have been right. 

“Watch the Prince,” the Librarian ordered the blonde. 

“She can either watch the Prince or watch the idiot trying to follow us,” the dark-haired woman adjusted the blades at her hips. “So I guess that means I’m checking to see if that moron thinks he can take us. I’d be happy to. I love taking down overconfident men.” 

There was a long silence then, as everyone attempted to focus on their supposedly so important task. The brunette focused on the ship pursuing them, the Librarian thought of the money he stood to make and how to keep avoiding the Man in Black, and the blonde did not keep her eyes off the Prince for even a single second, even though she really wanted to. Because there were a lot of bad memories associated with him, for her. There were good ones somewhere, hidden deep down, but right now it was just bad. 

So no one talked, and everyone just watched closely, on high alert. 

The Prince broke the silence. “Is he wearing a mask?”

That made both women look at him, because it did not really seem relevant. Still, it made them wonder at the identity of their pursuant. It certainly made them wonder if the identity of the man was relevant to why he was in pursuit. Perhaps he had a vendetta, perhaps he was after the Prince as well, or he had an issue with the Librarian. It did not seem important before, but it was starting to seem more and more important now. Especially after the Prince’s question. 

“I don’t know why it matters, but yes,” his dark-haired friend sighed. 

“Dread Pirate Roberts,” the Prince clearly enunciated those three words. “He is a monster, and if he catches us, we’re fucked. You know he killed…” 

The three friends shared a pained look, and completely ignored the Librarian, who did not seem to be aware of the exact situation there. Perhaps he was going to ask for an explanation later, but the women silently vowed that the explanation in question was not going to be coming from the Prince. They owed him that much - he did not need to relive his love’s death yet again. 

Though for the blonde, the reminder of that love stung, still. 

* * *

Julia had stopped reading for just a second, to drink some water and to catch her breath. It gave Penny just enough time to completely lose his fucking mind. Because if the blonde was Alice Quinn, and the brunette was clearly High King Margo, the Prince was… fucking Coldwater. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Penny had been a bit slow to put this together, but he had certainly figured it out now. “Is this actually Eliot and Coldwater? Julia, are you torturing me?” 

The emphasis on the monstrous part of the Dread Pirate Roberts’ description made a lot more sense now. Because he was some kind of allegory for that fucking Monster - yes, Penny was starting to remember more and more about what had happened while he had been stuck working for the Library in the Underworld. 

There had been a Monster, and when all of their memories had been wiped, the Monster had found Eliot and completely taken him over, essentially making him lost to… Coldwater. Because apparently he’d managed to miss out on there being an actual love story there. He had not missed out on the mooning and the secret glances and the threesome with Margo, but he had managed to miss those things turning into actual love. 

No wonder why it was hard for Alice Quinn to look at Coldwater (not just because he was extremely hard to look at, according to Penny). He was a constant reminder that their supposed true love was over, and that Quentin Coldwater had chosen Eliot Waugh. That he had gone to crazy lengths trying to save him. Yet nothing had worked. 

“If I were torturing you,” Julia smiled kindly, “you would know. Trust me.” 

She was not wrong about that, he probably would know. Because while Julia had her sneaky moments - she pulled some shit as a hedge that was hard to get over, even now - there was no way that she was still going to do something like that now. He was not saying that there was no way that she was going to make fun of him and torture him a little, he just figured that she would be a bit more open about it. Though goddesses could absolutely be tricky. 

“You’re trickier than that,” Penny was completely sure of that. 

“Yes, this is about El and Q,” Julia finally admitted it. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it absolutely has a happy ending. That’s why it’s written down. We all need the stories to have a happy ending every now and again. And they really had to fight for theirs.” 

Speaking as someone who actually came back from the dead, and not just from a possession by a childlike Monster, Penny had some thoughts about that. But he honestly did not want to listen to the story of the Dread Pirate Waugh and Prince Quentin any longer than he needed to, so he was just going to let Julia get on with the story. 

“What, no telling me to shut up?” Julia asked. 

“Maybe later,” Penny knew he’d end up saying it again. 

Especially now that he’d figured it all out and was forced to picture Eliot Waugh in the all-black pirate costume, and Coldwater in some kind of ridiculous Prince get-up. 

How much longer until Kady got back? 

* * *

The next morning, they finally reached the infamous Cliffs of Insanity. It was timed perfectly, because the Librarian had made sure it would be, because no one was actually insane enough to traverse the cliffs in the darkness. The cliffs were dangerous enough in the light of day, even with the use of magic - and he’d made sure that his accomplices were incredibly talented Magicians, just for this very moment. 

It wouldn’t do for any of them to die before they reached the top. Afterwards, however, the Librarian had very little need for the both of them. One would do. 

“Alright, so the best way to approach this,” the blonde started, having already created a master plan for how to get to the top safely. 

“I’m guessing magic,” the dark-haired woman was already rolling her eyes. 

He probably didn’t even have to do anything to help them kill each other if he ever wanted to be rid of them. Maybe a comment or two, or even just steering towards the topic of their respective failures, or the blonde’s previous betrayal. These Magicians just made everything so easy - not just for him, but for his employer as well. The Librarian liked it that way. 

“If you want to try doing it without magic,” the blonde adjusted her glasses pointedly, “be my guest. It’s less people for me to maneuver.”

The unfamiliar hand movements were sharp and measured, and the Librarian eyed them sharply, pretending he was supervising their use of magic. He had no magical capabilities himself, but that was not something that he was ever going to share with his blackmailed accomplices. Their assumptions about his magical abilities were what kept him relatively unharmed by them. That and his actual knowledge of Fen of Fillory’s whereabouts and his useless Underworld contacts that would supposedly help the blonde. 

Yes, this had been a game well-played. 

“Oh, so you’re going to do this?” The Former High King was not pleased. “We’re all just supposed to trust you? Because it went so well last time.”

Perhaps he had to say something, so that they at least made it to the top of the cliffs alive - he did not wish to fall to his death because the women had started squabbling again while performing supposedly very tricky bits of magic. Honestly, he was starting to wonder why these particular women had been chosen to work together - clearly his employer had underestimated the grudges they still so obviously held. Mostly the former High King, it seemed. 

“I’ve actually done this spell before, have you?” The blonde remained mostly composed. 

“Fine,” the dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. “But I’ll be watching you. Closely.” 

They abandoned the boat after it had been docked - it was useless to them now - and the Librarian watched as the blonde started to move her hands through a series of careful gestures yet again. This time the other woman just stared at her, monitoring her closely. The Librarian stepped in closer as well, pretending to critique her form when he actually only had the tiniest smidgen of knowledge about how to perform an actual spell. Still, he assumed that some of the rules of magic applied here, and it was best for them to stick close. 

Neither of the women corrected him, they actually stepped in close, all clinging to the now conscious prince, who was grumbling under his breath about terrible mistakes and how he was too young to die again. It was the again part that really threw the Librarian. 

Finally they started floating upwards, slowly, gently, avoiding the sharp rocks that would have left them injured and unable to perform magic. They also kept the sharpest of rocks from the prince so that he could not use those sharp stones to cut himself free from the magical ropes he’d been bound by. The Librarian knew no magic would help the prince escape, but he was less sure about the regular measures - most magical people seemed disinclined to think about those common things. Just like those wizard school books he totally hadn’t read when he was younger. When he’d still hoped that maybe he too could do magic one day. 

The cliffs were steep, and the Librarian knew that this would take a while. He was usually a patient man, even when floating in air, with one error risking a forty or fifty feet drop. 

Still, at this moment he did not feel particularly patient. 

“The Man in Black is still following us,” the dark-haired woman sounded almost pleased as she looked down. “He’s coming to shore. He might be gaining on us.”

They all looked down - or well, the Librarian and the former High King looked down as the blonde continued to remain focused. That was a good thing, because their lives were in her hands still. They were rapidly approaching the cliff’s edge, even though one person was managing to maneuver all three of them. Still, the Man in Black was by himself, so he only had to maneuver himself up the cliffs - if he even had magic. 

The thought of him being fast and powerful and having magic was… 

“Inconceivable,” the Librarian said yet again. 

“Need me to find you a fucking dictionary?” The dark-haired woman tried hard not to just laugh in his face. “Because you seem to have no idea what that word actually means. It certainly does not what you think it means. Wait, do you need me to spell it?” 

She was probably about ready to do it, too. The Librarian particularly disliked her at this very moment - he could work with the blonde, at least she was capable of remaining professional throughout all of this impossible nonsense. She just kept moving them closer to where they needed to be, with hardly a hiccup on the way. The dark-haired woman did not like obeying orders, too used to being the one with all the power. Perhaps the Librarian needed to remind her that he was, in fact, the one who had all of the power in this venture. 

“Margo,” the Prince seemed to be present enough to silence her. 

“Don’t Margo me, you son of a bitch,” the Former High King turned her face away from him immediately, trying not to look upset where he could see it. 

The Librarian did not want to get involved in this at all, unless they started to make trouble before they were all on safe ground again. And with the way the blonde maneuvered them, that would be any second now. She’d done well, competent and showing grace under pressure that his employer had expected from her. Perhaps that was why she had been chosen. 

The blonde stopped chanting the second they safely reached the top, and then addressed her not-quite friend. “I know you’re extremely frustrated, but if you could wait to insult him until we get what we want from him and everyone is safe… That would be much appreciated.” 

It earned her another eye-roll, because of course it did. The dark-haired woman wasn’t ready to give up her attitude for the greater good, and it was tiring. Especially now that their mission had just grown even more time-sensitive, now that they were being pursued by a mysterious man in black, identified as the Dread Pirate Roberts by the Prince. 

Sure, the Librarian had heard tales of the man in question. There had been tales of this pirate going around all lands - magical and non-magical for years now. Supposedly, the first mention of his name and his crimes had been in 1973 - that was what the library records said, at least. It was not a subject the Librarian had covered himself. Perhaps that would change after he had completed this mission. It was always wise to know one’s enemy. 

“You,” the Librarian ordered the former High King. “Stay here. Finish him off. Find us when you’re done. If you can’t, go back to the beginning.” 

She was fearsome with that blade, after all. She could take on one mysterious enemy, with both magic and the blade. And if the stranger won and killed the woman, the Librarian would be rid of the largest source of frustration in his party. It was really a win-win situation. 

* * *

Alice, the Librarian and the friend she’d betrayed for Fen had long since left by the time the Man in Black started to approach the top of the cliffs. Former High King Margo had been waiting rather impatiently for the man to get moving, but apparently this kind of magic was not one of his seemingly many gifts. It was odd to her, but she was sure that the man was thought of as incredibly dangerous for a reason. He had a blade, after all, just like she did. 

“Can you hurry up a little?” She had to ask. “I have places to be and people to save.” 

The evil pirate who’d killed her friend was being even more of a pain in her ass than she’d been expecting. He didn’t even dare to have the decency not to keep her waiting so that she could kill him, and go back to the Prince to tell him that she’d finally taken revenge for his love. Because those idiots apparently really did love each other - the full story was still incomprehensible to her, but apparently they were actually in love. They just hadn’t been able to talk about it - because they were men, and therefore terrible at talking about emotions. 

“This is actually quite tricky magic,” the Man in Black dared to stop chanting for a minute, clinging to rocks and standing on a small ledge. “You could help me. That way you wouldn’t just have to stand here and wait for me. Isn’t that convenient?” 

It was not quite patronizing, but it still rubbed her the wrong way. Being who he was, he still thought that he could just play nice with her and get her to trust him long enough for him to reach the top of the cliff unharmed. Why didn’t she just use her magic to throw him off the ledge and be done with him? For good! 

“And you would trust me to help you?” The dark-haired woman was not actually considering it. 

“Perhaps,” the Dread Pirate Roberts was actually negotiating with the former High King. “If you give me your word. Properly. Something even a heartless man like me can believe.” 

Heartless was the right word - dramatic was another. What made him think that she was not going to give him her word and then try to kill him regardless. He deserved to die, and she had never been afraid to get her hands dirty - why hesitate now? 

“You killed my friend,” she thought of the time they’d shared at their magical school. 

“I have killed many friends of many people,” the Pirate sounded so blase about it. “Guess that probably doesn’t make you want to help me. I guess I will just move slowly.” 

Why was she even thinking of considering helping the man who killed her friend? Just so she could kill him faster? Perhaps it was better that this shitcrisp continued dangling near the cliff’s edge, positioned precariously enough that a sharp breeze could take him out. Perhaps then she would not have to consider that the hands this guy was using to cling to the rocks had also been used to cruelly murder… She didn’t ever want to think about that. 

“I’m only waiting up here to kill you,” the dark-haired woman unsheathed her blade Sorrow. 

“I’m aware,” the Man in Black looked up at her from his perch. “Yet another thing that does not really motivate me to come up there. I would hate to kill you. And I would hate to die.” 

That was very cocksure. Typical man, thinking that he had any chance at beating her just because she was a woman with a blade. He didn’t know who she was and what she’d accomplished, how she’d lost and regained an eye, had nearly died so many times over that she was hardly scared of death anymore - she was just scared of dying alone, before… Before she could be reunited with her love, her greatest regret. 

“You won’t kill me,” the woman promised the pirate. 

He did not stand a chance - no one did, not against her, not when winning gave her a chance at finding her love again. She’d already betrayed some of her closest friends by doing this, and she was not going to let that be in vain. It had to lead to something. 

But she was not going to get anywhere by waiting around on this monster, by expending too much energy rehearsing their fight because she was bored and impatient. Not when she could lower the conveniently placed rope that some previous idiot had left behind. She could tie it around the rock - it wasn’t long enough to go all the way down, but there had to be enough for the Man in Black to use it to climb up to the surface. 

“Fine,” she sighed, loudly, finally deciding on helping the monster for some reason. “I swear on High Queen Fen of Fillory, that you will reach the top alive.”

She put her blade aside briefly, tied the rope and then tossed it down. The offer had been made, and it was up to the pirate to take it. He was probably opportunistic enough to do it, but also smart enough to test it first. She wondered if he’d use magic or if he was going to try to make this climb work the boring way. Now, the battle? That was going to be strictly boring - no magic used at all, unless she was losing. No one could call that cheating. 

Not within her earshot, anyway. 

“I appreciate that,” the Dread Pirate Roberts finally spoke, having seemingly mulled things over before deciding. “I know how much she means to you.”

Did he? Did this monster actually know just how important the High Queen was to the former High King? Very few people knew - the Prince did, of course, because he understood how hard it was to be without the love of one’s life - and maybe a few of her friends. But a monster, a monster who had killed someone’s true love? How did he know? 

“You don’t get to speak of her,” the dark-haired woman decided. 

A vicious pirate clearly had no idea of what true love was like. Who would ever love a monster like this? She knew a thing or two about monsters by now, and she was tempted to gut him right here, while he was still panting and climbing the final inches onto the cliff. She was tempted to throw him right off and be done with him. But perhaps… He knew of her, he knew who she was and what she meant - so maybe… Maybe he had valuable information. 

The Man in Black chuckled. “Alright then. Tell me about her. I need to catch my breath.” 

She granted him the boon almost unwillingly, hoping he knew something valuable that would allow her to ditch that Librarian and save her old friend from his clutches. And perhaps help Alice Quinn, even though it went against just about everything she was. It wasn’t like Alice did not have any reasons to be upset with the state of the world. 

“She was born here, a knife maker's daughter,” the woman started to speak, even though it hurt to tell the tale again. “She appreciated a good dagger, always had. But she also knew she’d have to marry the High King one day, even though that was hardly a match.” 

Oh, no, that had not been a match at all. Sure, it had been a valuable friendship eventually, and it had been the reason that they’d met, but it had never been a traditional marriage - even though all Fillorian customs had been observed properly. Mostly, she really did not want to think about all of the details, even though this had occurred years before she fell. 

“Hardly,” the pirate was actually laughing. 

Like he understood. Like he knew something about what had happened. It infuriated her. 

“Fine, I’ll skip ahead,” the female magician decided. “The marriage was over, and Fillorian law lets royalty marry one of each, so to say. After the many battles we fought for our land, I let her banish me, knowing that was the only thing that could save the world. When I came back for her, she was gone. She was lost in time, and even though everyone else came back, she did not. Because there was a man. An evil man, maybe even more evil than you. And he took her from me. I haven’t seen his face, but I know I will find him.” 

The description she’d gotten of the man who’d taken her love from their people had been extremely vague. No one seemed to remember his face, or his height, or a name or even a hair color. All that they remembered was that he had taken their High Queen, and...

She had to ask. “You don’t happen to have six fingers on your right hand?” 

“I do not,” the Man in Black showed off his gloved hands. 

The hands were annoyingly normal. No growths where a sixth finger should have been, no hint at this man being the villain who had taken the High Queen from their people, who had taken her from her love. It would have been easy if it had been him, but nothing about this search had been easy. If it had been, the High Queen would have been found already. 

“So it’s not you,” she was only partly disappointed, because it was too easy for him to be the source of all evil. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find him. And then I’ll walk up to him, point Sorrow at his throat and say: Hello. My name is Margo Hanson. You took my love. Prepare to die.” 

Those words came easily now. There was a time when she stumbled, where her calm and collected words just turned into screaming and cursing and giving the asshole misogynists around her all the reason they needed to call her hysterical (not that they seemed to need much of a reason to do that). She had learned long ago that her hard, glossy armor was more terrifying than her fury, and she was happy to use that to her advantage. 

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” the pirate nodded almost solemnly. 

“But first I have to kill you,” the dark-haired woman was done waiting. “I assume you’ve caught your breath by now. I have places to be, you to kill, and a queen to rescue.”

The woman appreciated the way the evil son of a bitch actually managed to listen to her, even though he seemed far too calm for someone who was undoubtedly heading for his death at her skilled hands. Either he really did not care if he lived or died as long as he got the job done - which was disturbingly reminiscent of… more than one of her friends - or he had something up those stupid black sleeves of him. She was pretty sure it was the latter. 

“You have been more than fair to me,” the pirate stood up and dusted himself off. 

“I’d ask you to tell people,” the dark-haired woman was smirking at him now, blade ready and waiting. “But you won’t have anyone to tell when you’re dead. Almost a shame, because my reputation as King Margo could use a boost. Maybe that’ll happen when I kill the asshole who killed their former King, and then rescue their Queen. I feel like I could get a statue for that.” 

And what a statue it would be - a damn attractive one. 

“You would make a good statue,” the Man in Black looked her up and down in a surprisingly non-sexual way. “Very threatening. I hope they include your blade. Sorrow, was it?” 

The Dread Pirate Roberts reached for his blade as well, and the woman made sure her grip on Sorrow was perfect. This was not a battle that she could afford to lose - and she had fought many a battle on nothing more than strength of will and stubbornness. This one mattered. 

“I would say I’d hate to kill you,” the former High King said, “but I’d be lying.” 

That made the evil Pirate almost smile, as he stepped into the perfect dueling position. His posture was good, the woman noticed, unsurprised. Of course a murdering pirate would have good posture and great skill with the blade. 

Lucky for her, she had more than a few tricks up her sleeve. 

She grinned as she gently tapped the man’s blade with hers. They were off. 

And what started here was one of the two greatest sword fights in Fillorian romance (the other one happens later on), and right from the beginning it looked different than any other battle. Because these combatants were not standing close, no one said “en garde” like they did in all of the other, typical tales. They were just two athletes, seeming too far away to do any real damage to each other. An uninitiated fool would almost call it boring. 

However, every time one fighter made even the smallest feint, the other countered. They were silent as they started to circle each other on the rough terrain, carefully avoiding rocks and bricks and debris. That would end this battle too quickly. 

Finally, finished teasing, the former High King and the evil Pirate began to duel in earnest, as their blades clashed again and again. The sound of the clashing was almost continual as the woman tried to corner the Pirate, making him retreat up a rocky incline. He was sure-footed still, much to her dismay. Still, the man had great skill. 

“Ah,” she said, reluctantly impressed. “So you’re using Bonetti’s defense against me?” 

They were just playing, it seemed. The woman appeared to have the high ground, metaphorically, of course, as the Pirate was forced higher and higher by her precise blows. He appeared to stumble, but recovered before the woman could take advantage of his momentary lapse. They were very evenly matched, and it was a great source of both frustration and delight for the dark-haired woman. She knew she would win, but she knew it would not be easy. 

“Of course, with this rocky terrain,” the Man in Black didn’t stop even for a second. 

“So you’re expecting Capo Ferro from me,” the dark-haired woman shifted just the slightest bit. 

Her training had been somewhat unconventional, but it had more than done the trick. If a rival dared to challenge her over the throne she still believed was rightfully hers, she was going to cut them down where they stood. No more marriages and allies, only winning battles. She did not wish to be partnered with anyone but her love. 

“Yeah,” the Dread Pirate seemed less than composed, before shifting again. “But there’s… A.. Thibault! It cancels out Capo Ferro, don’t you think?” 

The Man in Black found himself at the edge of the incline, nowhere to go but down. He jumped, leaving the beautiful woman to look down on him from above. She was grinning beatifically the whole time, blade glinting in the sunlight. 

“Unless your enemy knows Agrippa,” she barely finished talking before she leapt. 

Her somersault was as graceful as any gymnast, as she appeared to fly over her opponent’s head. The landing was perfect too, never losing grip on her blade as she found herself once again facing the Pirate. The man who killed a dear friend. 

“Which I do,” the grin never faded from her stunning face. 

The battle continued, as the two combatants flew over rocks and debris, never even coming close to tripping or stumbling. The advantage was the Pirate’s, and then it was the woman’s again. It was a tragedy that no scribe was there to record the details of this battle, especially since the clash continued to speed up, as the advantage appeared to be the Pirate’s again, as the dark-haired former High King found herself closer and closer to the lethal edge of the Cliffs of Insanity. Sure, the woman tried to dodge and slash, but nothing worked for too long. 

“You are wonderful,” the woman tried not to pout as she inched closer and closer to death. 

The Man in Black appeared to be smiling underneath his mask. “Thank you, I really appreciate the compliment. Especially from you. I have worked very hard for this.” 

Really? Had a monstrous pirate like him ever had to work hard for anything? The former High King doubted that he’d ever fought an honest battle in his pathetic life - long as it might have been, because there had been tales about him for a few decades now. 

And Margo fucking Hanson was not going to get defeated by an old man. 

“You might be better than I am,” the former High King seemed to soften, batting her eyelashes at her opponent, making him lose his footing. 

Ah yes, the attentions of a beautiful woman were not something that he could have defended himself against - they never could. The woman knew that much and was happy to use it to her advantage at any time. She always knew she held the advantage here. 

“You’re up to something,” the Man in Black still seemed almost delighted. 

“I know something you don’t know,” the woman sing-songed, both terrifying and beautiful all at once. “There is not just one blade named Sorrow.” 

Suddenly it became much more difficult for the Man in Black to keep his opponent trapped near the Cliff’s edge. He had to retreat, slowly but surely getting more and more desperate to regain the upper hand over the dark-haired woman. He kept failing, as her blades rushed through the air too fast for him to keep up with merely one blade. 

He had to retreat up a rocky staircase - perhaps he would regain ground on the turret-shaped plateau that was waiting for them there. But even when he reached the top, there was no solace to be found, not against the most formidable woman he had ever known (and he had known quite a few formidable women). Something had to be done. 

“You’re incredible,” he told her. 

“I’ve had to be,” the woman’s voice is harsh. “For my love.” 

And with that, the woman pushed her opponent into a pillar, trying to pin him with all of her considerable strength - and both of her wickedly sharp blades. The Man in Black felt the rocks digging into his back, and knew that he had no more time. Time for Plan B. 

“Actually,” the Man in Black just had to keep talking, even when he was almost certainly going to die. “There is something you don’t know about me.”

Of course there was, the woman knew as she sighed and rolled her eyes. Because there was no way that it was going to be interesting, or anything other than stupid sexist rhetoric that made him furious at being beaten by a mere woman. She wasn’t a mere anything - and the Man in Black didn’t actually seem all that angry. 

“Do tell,” the woman made it very clear that she wasn’t actually interested in hearing it. 

“I go both ways too,” the Dread Pirate grinned as he pulled a second blade from… somewhere the woman somehow hadn’t noticed it. 

Her blades were almost trembling as she was pushed away from the stone pillar, unsure of what had happened just now. Because for a second there, he… She’d heard that stupid fucking joke before, even though she couldn’t quite place the when and where. But what she did understand was that this was a joke. The Man in Black was joking with her, for some reason. 

“Was that a bisexuality joke?” The dark-haired woman stopped for a second, honestly and painfully amused by her opponent. 

Startled as she was by both the appearance of a second blade and the actual display of humor from someone she’d only ever seen as irredeemably evil, it was too easy for the Man in Black to knock first one blade, and then the second from her capable hands. 

“Who are you?” Former High King Margo just had to know. 

“Me?” Dread Pirate Roberts appeared to be grinning again. “I’m nobody. I am nothing.” 

The damn asshole (the former High King’s words, naturally) was still holding on to both of his blades. And something about his stance was familiar and completely new at the same time. He seemed tall and imposing, yet small and fragile and… There was a stupid thought stuck in her head that she couldn’t seem to let go of, because this monster was going to kill her too - and in this moment, she was very sure that he wasn’t actually a monster. 

Still, she had to win. 

“I can’t believe you beat me,” the woman was furious, ready to continue to fight him with magic, or bare-handed even. 

If only he gave her the chance. 

“I’m sorry,” he told her as he hit her over the head with the heavy handle of one of his blades. “I can’t have you following me, Margo. We’ll meet again, I promise. You know I respect the hell out of you. You will find her. Fen. I know you will.” 

The Dread Pirate Roberts gently lowered his unconscious opponent to the ground, making sure she was not too grievously harmed before sheathing both blades and heading in the direction of another dangerous woman, a mysterious Librarian and a beautiful Prince. 

* * *

“Inconceivable,” the Librarian told the blonde. 

She was smart enough not to antagonize him, even though she was very aware that he was completely warping the meaning of the word. Clearly the Man in Black, the one the Prince had called the Dread Pirate Roberts, was even more dangerous than they’d imagined. She hadn’t envied him his battle against Margo, even though she still wanted the man suffering or dead. 

And he’d won. He’d beaten the most stubborn woman she knew, and the blonde Magician wondered if he’d now killed two of her friends. 

“You,” the Librarian started dragging the Prince away from her. “Kill him. I’ll take the Prince.” 

The Librarian was happy to have her be the third, as long as the Man in Black did not get his hands on the Prince or on the damn Librarian himself. It made her contrary, made her want to argue about who was the best choice to keep the Prince safe. She knew she was the more talented Magician - if the Librarian had her skill at magic… He had never been inhabited by his Niffin self, she could tell that much. He was not on her level, and that was why she had to take them up the cliffs. And that was why she was the one who had to protect the Prince. 

“I won’t leave him,” she said instead, stubbornly preparing a spell. “I already failed him once.” 

More than once, but the last failure still cut her to the bone. She was probably going to spend the rest of her life making up for that, and she wished more than ever that it was all a dream, or another reality that could have been fixed. But that was not to be. 

“How noble,” the Prince scoffed. “Just leave, Alice. Kill him.” 

Clearly the Prince had not forgiven her either, but perhaps this was a way that she could make it up to him. She was not going to die for him, she was not going to die for anyone, but she was going to fight, and she was going to win. She was going to drag the Dread Pirate Roberts back to the Prince, wrapped up in chains, and give him the revenge he wanted so badly. Perhaps that would make up for some of her previous errors. 

“How very sportsmanlike,” the Prince mocked when he saw her prepare her first spell before the Man in Black properly came into view. “You never did care for being fair to anyone.” 

It stung, she couldn’t deny that - which only helped her spells. Magic was built from pain, and she certainly had plenty of pain to work with. Perhaps that was why everyone had always considered her the most skilled in their class - she had made friends with her pain at a very young age, and she’d kept it close. Because that was how she got better. 

She let loose the first spell, but somehow it just caused a big rock to splinter, right as the Man in Black ran past it. He coughed as some of the dust went into his mouth, but he kept going as if no spell had been used at all. How did he just shake that off? 

The entire battle was all downhill from there, and the blonde Magician was still trying to figure out just how she had managed to lose so thoroughly when everything went black. 

She could have sworn she heard the Pirate tell her he was sorry. 

* * *

On the other side of the magical kingdom, outside Castle Whitespire, a troupe of soldiers gathered around their King and his companion, a Count who had lived in this magical land on and off for decades. They were some of the best trackers in this land, using both natural and magical means to find their prey - in this case, the King’s lovely fiance. 

“They took my fiance,” the King told the Count, settling comfortably on horseback. “If something happens to him, I will be very put out.” 

The Count nodded amiably, already thinking of the hunt rather than of the poor Prince who’d been kidnapped by those he had previously considered his friends. After all, the hunt was the Count’s true gift. He could find just about anyone, anywhere. 

* * *

The Librarian had used the time of the Man in Black’s battle with the blonde Magician to make his stand. He’d set the table for a meal, as if there was no reason for them to run, to make haste, to disappear across the borders into Loria. As if he wasn’t harboring the fiance of the Dark King himself. As if he wasn’t waiting for an extremely dangerous opponent, the Prince still bound and positioned at the Librarian’s feet. 

He was sure that it was quite an image for the Man in Black, seeing as it was going to be the first thing he saw when he came over the hill. Which he would any second now, seeing as the battle had been over for a little while now - the Librarian did not really expect the blonde Magician to triumph. She simply did not have the Librarian’s talents. 

Or so he thought. 

* * *

The top of the cliffs of insanity was easily traversed by a King and his men, especially since they did not need to climb the cliffs themselves. They were on horseback, chasing the bandits who had been on foot the whole time - it was easy to gain upon them. 

Yet, when they reached the top of the cliffs, they only found traces of a fierce battle, and no traces of either of the combatants. Since the King was an excellent tracker, it was easy for him to figure out exactly what had happened, down to the specific moves that had been used in the battle. He had seen the Capo Ferro coming long before the opponent had, he was sure. 

“The victor went that way,” he pointed further inland. “The loser was unconscious for a while, but ran away in that direction. They are of no interest to me. We need to find my Prince.” 

The Count followed the trail of the loser for a few yards, realizing that this person (light on their feet, likely one of the women who’d taken the Prince) had turned back in the direction of Castle Whitespire. Where all of the King’s remaining guards would be waiting for her. That problem was simply going to solve itself - anyone would recognize her. 

“This way, my King,” the Count was already riding inland, on the trail of the victor. “There are traces of magic blowing our way. I think there must have been a battle not too long ago.” 

The land had been disturbed by the movements of multiple people, but also by spells that had slightly more devastating effects on the immediate environment. Entire areas of grass had been burned away, or iced over, or otherwise damaged in a way that screamed magic. It was unlike anything they’d seen in the land for a while, a magical duel of this kind, and it told them that these were very dangerous people who had taken the Prince. 

“Yes, I sense it as well,” the King quickly followed suit. “I think once again our mystery opponent one, and the female magician departed elsewhere. We must catch up.” 

As they rode across the magical lands in pursuit of a mysterious opponent, there was a smile on the King’s face that never quite went away. 

* * *

The Prince was straight-up not having a good time. 

They had barely managed to walk half a mile away from the body of the wicked Librarian and the remains of the game set up by the awful man. If the Man in Black was truly going to keep himself away from the Dark King of Fillory, he was going to have to move faster than this, even with the Prince dragging his feet every step of the way, and being a true pain about absolutely everything. Clearly the Prince was not getting over his perceived grudge any time soon, even though the Man in Black certainly had good reason to be furious with the Prince. 

“Release me,” the Prince ordered. 

The Man in Black laughed, darkly. Of course he was not even considering letting the Prince roam free - the man was clearly not to be trusted, and because of his anger, he was going to take the first chance he got to attempt to hurt the Pirate. The Pirate would have understood, if it hadn’t been for the King. That was what was truly bothering him. 

“I give you my word that you can depart unharmed,” the Prince had to try again. “All you have to do is release me. At least get this thing off me. You have my word.” 

It did not matter how many times the Prince repeated that. Because the Man in Black was very aware of just how well he could stick to his word once things got hard - which was not too well at all. And after he’d… No, he did not wish to think about that at this time. 

Once again, the Man in Black merely laughed. “How can I trust the word of an honorless man?” 

The Prince looked properly insulted at that, and the Dread Pirate was so very pleased. It seemed as if very few people called this man out on his trickery and unfaithfulness - because people would not dare to tell the truth to the man who was to be married to one of the most terrifying rulers that this land had ever seen. And that was really saying something, because the Pirate had battled former High King Margo. Now she was truly terrifying. 

“The King will come for you,” the Prince told the man in black. “Because you have taken me, he will never stop coming for you. He will never stop looking for me.” 

How much faith the Prince had in his King. How much faith he had in a man who was worth none whatsoever. How little faith he’d had when it really mattered. How difficult it must have been for him to wait even a second before going with the King. 

“Oh,” the pirate’s voice was ice cold now. “Do you think your love will save you?” 

His love? The Prince stilled at the reminder - because while he had a love, and always would, that love was not the Dark King of Fillory. He loved another, and he always would - not that this monster in front of him knew anything of love, other than to mock it. The Dread Pirate Roberts had clearly never felt love, and therefore he felt safe to mock people who had. 

“I never said I loved him,” the Prince visibly steeled himself. 

“You don’t even love him?” The Dread Pirate Roberts tisked mockingly. “And yet you believe in him so completely. You say you do not love him. Can you even love?” 

Of course he did not love the King, of course the reasons for his imminent marriage had nothing to do with love and everything to do with the fact that he loved this land and the people in it, and this was the only way they had found that would allow him to continue to help them. It was the only way to keep his friends safe, to have a chance at finding the lost Queen. 

Still, the idea of getting married to anyone but him… It made him feel sick. 

“I have loved more deeply than you could ever even imagine,” the Prince was seething at yet another reminder of his lost love. 

The one who had been killed by this very pirate. He was faced with the murderer of his great love, faced with a monster, and yet he had let the man take him away from the Librarian. He had let himself be saved by a monster, and let himself be forced to run away from his future husband. Now he had never been particularly interested in marrying the king - he wasn’t interested in marrying anyone but the man he’d lost - but actively running away was a new concept for him. And to do so practically in the arms of this evil creature? 

That meant there was nothing but darkness ahead. 

“You’re an excellent liar,” the evil pirate had the audacity to mock him. “Now, run!” 

It seemed like a terrible joke, the way the Dread Pirate Roberts tried to push his captive into running along the rolling hills making up this part of the Fillorian landscape. Sure, the Prince was not the most athletic of his friends, but he could usually walk, and perhaps even run if necessary. However, his current bindings kept him rather off balance, and seeing as the way down the hills was exceedingly steep, he did not wish to break his neck just to keep this murdering Pirate happy. He simply refused. 

“I can’t run like this,” the Prince motioned with his bound arms. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” the Pirate sighed before bending down to eye the contraption keeping the Prince bound and powerless. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Now that, that had to be a lie. 

* * *

The body of the Librarian was not yet cold, and neither was the remaining food on the make-shift table. The display was not purposeful, or at least it did not seem that way - the Man in Black had been in a hurry, running away with the Prince before he could be caught in the act. 

Quite the opponent, the King pondered the current situation. He had not been expecting the appearance of the mysterious Man in Black - the Librarian and his hapless assistants should have been the only people in the way of his glorious rescue of the Prince. If he got there in time, and he wasn’t particularly interested in doing that at this point. 

His fiance had been a disappointment, even for a political marriage. Perhaps moving a bit slower was wise, to give the Man in Black time to take her. It would be very sad, the King swearing vengeance, in mourning as it were. The entire nation was to grieve the Prince’s kidnapping, and the King did not have to worry about the risk of an uprising. Not when the people were still so enchanted with the Earthlings who’d betrayed him. 

The Dark King trusted no one. So he played his part. 

“My prince is alive,” he at least tried to sound relieved at that, “or at least, he was an hour ago. If he’s otherwise when we find him, I’ll be extremely disappointed.” 

The Count was the only one who understood just how disappointed he wouldn’t be. 

* * *

The bindings were tricky, all tangled up in magic, broken down on purpose just to make them impossible for the Prince to undo them himself. In fact, it would have been almost impossible for anyone to fix them enough to open them. However, the Dread Pirate Roberts may not have been a very gifted magician, but there was one thing he could do. 

He was good with broken things. 

“I know who you are,” the Prince tried to struggle as soon as he was unbound, not counting on his magic being temporarily drained. “You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts.” 

The Prince was not particularly grateful to have regained the use of his hands - and eventually his magic - but the Man in Black had not expected him to be so. He did not expect anything but hatred and dismissal, and so far the Prince had not surprised him too much. 

“At your service,” the Pirate bowed perfectly, mockingly. “What can I do for you?” 

It was something he’d worked on, his ability to bow so perfectly. It hadn’t seemed like an important skill for a Pirate at first, but in situations like this, it came in quite handy. Sometimes he was faced with royalty, and it was easier to surprise them if he insulted them while displaying perfect manners. And when it came to this Prince, insults and surprises were all he had left. 

“Die,” was all the Prince said to him. 

The Pirate stopped in his tracks just briefly. “Harsh.” 

Even after everything, it hurt to hear the Prince so full of hatred towards him. He steeled himself though, because he’d had years to get over this (not that those years had worked). 

“You killed my love,” the Prince was so sure his wrath was justified. 

This was a chance, a way to get the Prince’s true perspective, the way to find out who he truly loved. The Man in Black doubted that he would get the answers that he really wanted to hear, but he was finally going to get some answers. That would have to be enough. 

“Another king?” The Dread Pirate Roberts scoffed. 

“Yes, actually,” the Prince stared right at the villain, too stubborn to look away, “but mostly accidentally. A farm boy, really. When we first… We only had the cottage. Someone who’d burn down the world to keep me from hurting, told me stories to make me laugh. His long hair was always in his face, and he… But you killed him. You don’t take prisoners.” 

No, the Dread Pirate Roberts did not take prisoners. That was the reputation that had been built for him, the one he managed to find work-arounds for - because that was what he needed to do to make this work. Still, the reputation had not changed, even when there was blatant untruth in it. If he hadn’t been so frustrated and angry, he would have corrected the Prince. 

“No exceptions,” the Man in Black appeared to be making fun of the Prince. “If word gets out, they’ll think I’ve gone soft, my crew will disobey, and then it’s just work, work, work.” 

The Prince wished more than ever to hurt the Pirate. He wished to make him feel the kind of pain that his love must have felt, abandoned by everyone in his attempt to save the world - but only because he asked to be abandoned. He’d heard the tales, even though he hadn’t been present for the worst of it himself. Or was the worst of it the bit that came after? After he’d saved everyone and died for it, because of the Dread Pirate Roberts? 

“You mock my pain,” the Prince would have lashed out, had his magic been at full strength. 

“Life is pain,” the Man in Black said bitterly. “Magic comes from pain.” 

That was a familiar lesson. One so familiar that the Prince started wondering if perhaps the Man in Black knew of Brakebills too, and had been taught the same lesson that they all had been. A cruel lesson, but one they parroted nonetheless. Why was it that there had to be pain? 

“I remember your farm boy,” the Pirate had apparently decided that it was to be torture after all. “I can tell you about him. Or does that bother you?” 

Did that bother him? It did and it didn’t. Because he wanted to have new memories of his love, wanted to know every moment of his life - but also hearing about how it ended was going to tear him apart. He only wanted to know about how he lived, not how he died. 

“You can’t upset me,” the Prince was determined not to make it so. 

“He died honorably,” the Dread Pirate Roberts almost sounded impressed by that. “Didn’t try to bribe me, or blubber at me. He just said please. Please, I need to live. I asked him what was so important, that he needed to return to it. He said it was true love. And then he spoke of a man so beautiful the gods would be jealous, someone honorable and faithful. I guess that was supposed to be you. At least he died before he found out what you really are.” 

Honorable? Faithful? Beautiful? Of course that was what he said. Somehow the idiot still thought that he was out of his depth, that he wasn’t good enough. That he was never going to live up to this ideal partner that he thought he had to be - when the Prince had never asked for an ideal. He’d only asked for him - for his love, for his person, the one he  _ chose _ . 

“And what is that?” The Prince raised himself up to his full height. 

“He called you faithful,” the Dread Pirate Roberts spoke those words as if they had turned to ashes in his mouth. “And here you are, engaged to a King. A Dark King. Did you wait a week for your wounds to heal? A month? Or did you snare him right away?” 

It had been years since his love had been taken from him - years, not days or weeks or months, but years. He hadn’t… He wouldn’t… This impending marriage had nothing to do with love, except his love for the people and for his friends. Sure, he mostly made the decision to be brave, to keep anyone else from taking it on - because they still had opportunities to feel that great love. His was long gone, and it was only partly fate’s fault. He’d had his own role to play in it, in why it had not happened the way it should have happened. 

“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” the Prince stepped in closer, biting down on his fury. “I died that day, when I found out he’d… You know what? You can die too for all I care.” 

Angry, frustrated, and still unable to reach for his magic in the way that he usually would, the Prince instead resorted to playground tactics. He pushed at the Dread Pirate Roberts, pushed him down the rolling hill he was so precariously positioned on. It was too easy. 

“As you wish,” the Man in Black let himself be pushed. “Peaches…” 

“And plums,” the Prince completed the phrase without another thought. 

And then he stopped in his tracks, because… Oh, oh, oh. Because there was only one person who would know to say that, and who would know how to say it right. This was why the cadence of his voice was both painful and soothing, and this was why he’d been able to handle the so-called chains he had been trapped in. Because minor mending had always been one of his particular gifts, and it… It meant that everything was different. 

Because his love was here. Alive, and whole. Mostly, if he didn’t break anything falling down that hill onto the hard ground below. 

“Q, my Q, what have I done?” The soon to be prince cried out as he tumbled down the hill, after his love. 

* * *

What the actual fucking fuck? 

Sure, he’d guessed the Coldwater/Waugh angle of it all ages ago, and he guessed the whole Dread Pirate Waugh thing immediately because there was only one person extra enough to pull off that twist. Because that death thing was probably an allegory for all of the Monster shenanigans that had apparently been going on while he was… down below. 

But apparently there was a fucking twist. And he’d been reluctantly impressed by the Dread Pirate Coldwater this whole time. And that was just… unacceptable. 

“Quentin?” Penny did not have the fucking words for how bonkers this was. 

“That’s what the book says,” Julia was being far too pleased at his response. “Q, my Q, what have I done, the soon to be prince cried out as he tumbled down the hill, after his love.” 

The language alone was killing him, but that really wasn’t the most important issue here, because fucking Coldwater was the Dread Pirate Roberts. Fucking Coldwater was the badass in this story, the most feared pirate in the lands, the one who’d defeated Margo Hanson and Alice Quinn. And honestly, just… How?

“The most feared pirate in the history of…,” he had to trail off, because what the fuck, that’s why. “And it’s fucking Coldwater? Quentin Coldwater? Waugh I could accept. He’s dramatic enough to pull it off. Rising from the dead included. But Coldwater?” 

It had made sense, the second he figured out the whole Coldwater-Waugh thing (and boy was that cringe-worthy enough to discover), to picture Eliot Waugh as the dashing pirate. He was dramatic enough to have a secret identity like that, and of course Penny was smart enough to figure out the twist there, that the prince’s love had never actually died and was instead the very mysterious man coming to save him. So it made sense for it to be Eliot. 

Eliot was the kind of pretentious shit who would have said something about looking great in black, and would have been dramatic enough to battle Margo and Alice - and win. Coldwater however? Penny couldn’t see it, even though it was in the book and supposedly true. 

“I’m sorry,” Julia said, even though she clearly was not sorry, “did you want me to stop here?” 

Did he? Sure, he really couldn’t care less about Coldwater’s bullshit, and his supposedly epic and dramatic love story with Eliot fucking Waugh, but just being here in bed, waiting for Kady to get back already? It was boring as fuck. 

But was it more boring than listening to these two idiots swooning? That was the real question. 

Penny sighed, because he guessed she was going to make him say it out loud. “I could stand to hear a little bit more.” 

“Oh,” Julia really was drawing this out. “I guess if you can stand to listen to me.” 

Sometimes he really didn’t understand why Julia and Coldwater had been friends for so long - and sometimes he really, really did. This was one of those times where it was really fucking obvious. And really fucking annoying - did they do some of that sci-fi mind melding as kids or whatever? Fucking hell. 

“Shut up.” 

Julia cleared her throat and continued to read. 

“Right, now where was I? Oh, right. The soon to be prince cried out as he tumbled down the hill, after his love.” 

* * *

Finally, they both came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. The Prince laid down in the grass, breathing heavily as he tried to make the world stop spinning so damn fast. It seemed an impossible feat, so he lied there, trying to take stock of any pains and aches. 

“Are you okay?” The pirate asked his love. 

“You fucking,” the dark-haired prince to be certainly was not minding his language at this point. “I can’t. You. I can’t believe. You fucking… Ow.” 

Because he was furious. Because he didn’t understand why his love hadn’t just unmasked himself the second they saw each other again, or at least when the Librarian had been out of the picture. The women would have been delighted too - Bambi probably would have pushed him around a little to show it, but she would have been so very happy. Alice might have cried, even. And him? He would have leapt, would have pulled him close and never allowed the world to part them again. 

“Can you move?” The pirate was so careful with his love, having only just gotten him back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The future prince was a little less - candid. “You’re not dead. I might actually be able to fly at this point. Without a spell. Jesus fuck,  _ Q _ .”

It was a single syllable, a single letter, and it had the weight of a thousand words. In that one word, that one letter, the Prince laid his soul bare. There was anger and confusion and sadness but the joy outweighed all of it - because he never thought that he would get to have this again, not after he spent years believing that his love was dead and gone. 

So perhaps he was able to fly now that he had his love by his side again, even though his entire body hurt from their tumble down the hill. He didn’t care. He’d fly if he needed to. 

The Pirate appeared to feel much the same, but he reluctantly helped his love sit up, and tried to find the words that would allow them to fill the gaps. To fix what had been broken by callous disregard and fear, and what could be fixed by this second - or third - chance. 

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” The Pirate finally broached the painful topic. 

“You died, Q,” the Prince almost choked on the words, even as they’d been proven untrue. “And I half thought you’d chosen to die. That you’d given up.”

It was the most painful of truths. The Pirate had to have known that his Prince never would have given up on him if there had been even a single sign that he had made it through somehow, that there was a way to go to the Underworld and take back his love. If there had been a hint, or the magical letters had worked… He would have moved heaven and earth and hell - and everything in between - to find the love of his life again. 

But it had seemed like it was too late. Like his love had given up. 

“I didn’t,” the Man in Black sounded so very sure of it, even as he tripped over the words. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. I know it looked bad, and I know with my… history of… I know. But I wouldn’t. I was never going to do that when I was about to get you back.”

The Man in Black hadn’t always been a Pirate with a terrifying reputation. He’d been a boy once, scared and unable to deal with the world at its harshest. He kept going every single time, but it would always take a toll on him. So much of a toll that the Prince occasionally had to worry if he could and would keep trying next time the fates tried to tear him apart. 

And his death… That had been one time too many. 

“I should have known,” the Prince was filled with regret. 

And perhaps he should have, but  _ could _ he have known? Was it possible to know that the Dread Pirate Roberts was his love returned from the death? How could he have known? There were no clues except for his almost delusional belief. Which he usually possessed in spades. 

“El,” the Pirate’s face twisted into a soft smile just at the mention of that name, “you know that death can’t stop true love. It just delays it a little while.” 

The Pirate reached out for his love again, the soft smile almost glowing in the warm golden sunlight. The Prince clasped that hand in his, because his love had returned to him whole and hearty, promising to save them all from their fates. He’d saved his love’s life already, as he was prone to do. However, that should not be allowed to become too much of a habit. 

It made him dismissive of his own needs, and the Prince wouldn’t have that. 

“Ugh, you’re such a sap, Coldwater,” the curly-haired Prince scoffed, before taking a beat to get serious again. “Guess I won’t have to doubt you again.” 

That seemed almost impossible, not having to worry about what his floppy-haired love would do next that endangered his own well-being. He’d worried since he met him all those years ago, the boy that came through the portal stammering and almost unable to ask a question without um-ing and er-ing the whole time. The Pirate had been a nervous creature back then, and the Prince had felt his heart grow three sizes, trying to match the love he already felt. 

“There won’t be a need to,” the Man in Black made his solemn vow. “Not ever. I promise. I choose you, remember. Proof of concept. Peaches and plums.” 

It was an old joke now, from a lifetime ago, a lifetime that had never actually occurred. It still served to make both of them smile at the memories. There were bad ones and good ones, but those words mostly brought the good times to the forefront of their minds. Of a love that lasted more than a single lifetime, possibly even forever. 

“If we already have proof of concept anyway…,” the Prince had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he pulled his love closer to him. 

There was no need to wait, no need to hesitate about this being the right course of action, because they already knew that it was possible to make it work. They’d lived a life in which they loved so completely that it was inconceivable to think that it might not work out in this particular lifetime. Proof of concept held in peaches and plums meant that this was going to work in every single lifetime, no matter what the fates thought they knew. 

Because nothing could stop true love. 

His Pirate still kissed the same, the Prince discovered. Still eager and willing to throw himself into his Prince’s lap just to get closer to him, as if they could actually become one if his Pirate just wanted it enough. Which he always did. He always wanted and needed and loved so wholeheartedly, that there never should have been any doubt about their love. 

Perhaps now the Prince would be able to push any remaining doubts to the side, when his love was clinging tightly to him as they kissed in - 

* * *

Penny coughed pointedly, because Julia was getting a bit too into the descriptions. She - or the book’s author, whoever that might have been - hadn’t been half as descriptive when it came to the sword fight or any of the actual cool things that happened. It was starting to make him wonder who the hell had written this thing. This was no regular Library book. 

“Yeah, skip this bit,” Penny told Julia. “Pick up again later, when it gets interesting again. The fire swamp sounds good.”

Honestly, Julia had promised a whole lot of stuff other than true love, and the repeated romantic drama was just annoying - and that had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn’t seen Kady in person since… he died. And all this talk of true love and death was making him miss her a stupid amount, and also making him worry that something was going to happen to keep them from each other yet again. And he was so fucking over that bullshit. 

“Does Kady know about how much of a romantic you are?” Julia was all quirked brow and poorly hidden amusement. 

So he had to say it again. “Shut up.”

At some point saying that was going to have to be turned into a drinking game. Supposedly drinking was out of the question for now, but something had to be done. He’d been telling Julia to shut up over and over now (because she was way too observant, because she was a literal fucking goddess), and still this was getting too embarrassing. 

Why did he almost like her again? 

“Alright,” Julia took a sip of water before she could continue, “so the prince and the pirate…”

Walked into a bar? Or was Julia the only one who got to make the terrible jokes here? Well, Penny had actually died, which probably earned him the right to be a little shit about everything, especially the ridiculous tendency to describe the characters rather than name them. 

“You can use their names, you know,” Penny had to roll his eyes yet again. 

“I’m reading,” Julia lifted the book up a bit higher to emphasize her point. “The book doesn’t use names much. Just for dramatic effect. But I promise to be a bit more liberal with my artistic license as your official storyteller. Now shush, will you?”

Official storyteller? Right, sure, that might as well happen. 

Penny mimed zipping his lips, but he was sure his eyes told Julia exactly what he thought of this ordeal. Still, she wasn’t even remotely rattled. 

* * *

The Pirate was almost excited to go into the mythical fire swamp. He’d heard so many tales of it before, read about it in all of his favorite volumes, and now he would get to traverse the dangerous lands himself. With his true love by his side. 

It made the gloomy atmosphere of the fire swamp look less gloomy, and made him far less concerned about all of the three major dangers of the fire swamp. He already knew of all of them, and he also knew that together they would be able to overcome any kind of danger, whether it was flame spurts or lightning sands or mythical monsters. 

Or Dark Kings. 

“Okay,” the Pirate surveilled the surrounding area, “not bad, this looks doable. Totally.” 

The Prince did not seem to agree with his assessment, as he gave him a very strong look that signified that he was not as confident in their ability to overcome. Or perhaps his love was still worried that the fire swamp would try to separate them once again. 

Did he not know that it never could? 

“Q, watch out!” The Prince shouted as he heard rumblings from under their feet. 

They both danced to the side just in time, as a large spurt of flames burst from the ground on which they had just stood. It was fiery hot, even from several feet away, and the former Farmboy was completely fascinated with it. He immediately wished to know how it worked, and how similar it was to the tales he’d read about it when he was just a young boy. 

It seemed that the rumbling noise was real. That was very helpful. 

“So that’s a flame spurt,” the Pirate was almost disappointed when it ended. 

“Weren’t they in your precious books?” The Prince was less than amused. 

The Farmboy nodded happily at his love, thrilled to see the undiscovered lands just as they’d been described in his favorite tales. Even because a tale had been penned by a monster, did not mean that the world described in it could not be meaningful to him. 

And so very real, even if his Prince was rather worried about how real it was. 

“My ship is on the other end of the swamp,” the Man in Black explained. 

Did his love not know that he had a plan? Perhaps not all of his plans were incredible, but he was a thorough researcher with a gift for making broken things work again. Which was something that would give them an advantage on their dangerous journey. 

“Your ship?” The Prince was surprised to hear it. 

“I’m the Dread Pirate Roberts,” the Farmboy turned Pirate grinned proudly. “Remember?” 

In actuality, the name Roberts was not his own, and the reputation did not particularly suit him, but it thrilled the Man in Black nonetheless that he was an actual captain of pirates, a whole ship of them at his command. The journeys across the eel-infested waters brought him no short supply of delight, and they’d slain many a monster they’d come across on their way. It was every bit the adventure he’d hoped for as a child with a colorful imagination, and his Prince - and perhaps his friends - was the only thing missing from his adventure. 

But his love had been returned to him now, and they could have a quest again. The Farmboy could bring him onto the ship and keep him safe. And with him, forever. 

“How did you get that title?” The Prince had some questions about the title and the legacy that he was happy to answer. “That guy’s been around forever. You have not - with the exception of fifty years in Fillory. But I think I would have noticed if you’d run off to play pirate.” 

Back in their previous lifetime, the Pirate had not yet been a pirate. He’d been many things: a Farmboy, a father and a husband and a lover. But not a pirate, no matter how many tales of piracy he’d told to his eager audience of one. His young son, now long gone, had greatly enjoyed the tales of heroics and fighting of terrifying monsters. 

His lover had listened to them, reluctantly at first, but proceeded to add his own spin to the tales to make sure that they reflected the right kind of flair. 

“The story I told you was true,” The Dread Pirate Roberts explained. “I said please. Roberts thought it was intriguing, so he made me his personal researcher. His assistant. Every night he said “good job, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning”. He said that for a year! I got better at fencing, learned to fight. But then Roberts told me he wanted to retire. He told me his secret.” 

The Prince was more enthralled than he wished to look, so he affected a bored look on his face as his love told of the dangers he’d faced and the pains he’d endured in the years he’d spent without him. They really had been separated for far too long, but if the Pirate could talk of those years with swashbuckling charm, grinning in excitement as he talked of almost being killed hundreds of times, perhaps it had not been all bad. 

Still, the Man in Black was far too delighted at the whole thing. 

“Oh God, this is a whole thing, isn’t it?” The Prince did not sound upset about it at all. 

“He wasn’t the Dread Pirate Roberts either,” the Man in Black felt the thrill of finally revealing the truth to his love. “He was like, the ninth guy? Or the tenth? The original Dread Pirate Roberts took his money and retired ages ago. He offered me the chance to replace him. The name was the important thing, he said. No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Quentin.” 

Though the Dread Pirate Coldwater had quite the ring to it, and he was not quite ready to give up on that title. Perhaps his Prince could join him in that life for a little while. 

“You are not wrong,” the beautiful Prince made a not so beautiful face at the idea. 

“Funny,” the Pirate even laughed, just for a little bit. “So we swapped crews and he pretended to be my first mate. He started calling me Roberts. And people bought it. After a while, he left to enjoy retirement, and I’ve been the Dread Pirate Roberts ever since.” 

At that, the Dread Pirate Roberts - or the Dread Pirate Coldwater - made a theatrical gesture as a sort of homage to jazz hands, and the Prince wanted to laugh at his love because at least that much had not changed. At least the core of his love was still completely the same, enjoying fantasy worlds and tales of heroes saving the world and mythical pirates who took in a fragile boy and helped him turn into the strong man who now stood before him. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” the Prince too was enjoying the tale. 

He was reluctant to admit it to his love, but it pleased him to see the man he loved so happy and settled into this miraculous life of crime. He’d never been all that suited to it before, but apparently some things had changed over the past few years. 

His love had gotten stronger and more proficient with a blade, for one. 

“I’m sorry,” the Pirate was not in fact sorry, “I happen to think I make a great pirate.” 

The Prince was rather shocked to find that he almost agreed with the sentiment, though he had to say that his love lacked the kind of dramatic flair that the job required. His love was all giddiness at getting to play pirate, and the costume he’d adopted was quite a look on him, but there was no way that Quentin Coldwater of New Jersey could be properly menacing. 

Not like Eliot Waugh of Brakebills (never of Indiana). 

“I can do better,” Prince Eliot therefore had to argue. 

“Well, then maybe you can take over when I retire,” the Pirate Quentin eagerly gave in. 

Was he that eager to retire? Or perhaps was he just eager to share his life on the ship with his love? Sure, it was not to be a very elegant life, and it was going to lack at least some of the comforts that the Prince had gotten rather used to in his life as High King and now Prince of these magical lands. But surely with magic, there could be a way. 

“All-black is a good look on me,” the Prince pondered the idea. 

He would miss the crown, the crown that had once been given to him by his true love, and he would miss the elaborate capes and elaborate details, but surely he could make an all-black ensemble work for him somehow. After all, his sartorial choices were unparalleled in any land he visited, so he’d simply have to become the most well-dressed pirate in the history of the world. 

“Everything’s a good look on you,” the Pirate Quentin replied. “But you already know that.” 

Prince Eliot preened, because it was never a bad thing to have his love appreciate the effort he put in to look as stunning as he did. Even though his love clearly did not care much about putting in effort himself, as he was most comfortable in dark colors and comfortable hoodies and dreadfully boring Earthly garments. It just made the all-black ensemble even more of a delight, as it fit his body properly, revealing new muscles he wished to get acquainted with. 

Distracted as he was by the changes in his love’s figure, he did not mind where he was walking. Between one breath and the next, he was swallowed by sand, all around him. It pulled him deep into a void, an almost magical void where breathing was impossible and the Prince could do nothing but to wait until his true love came for him. 

He would. Quentin would always come for him. 

Seconds turned into minutes, and the Prince was running out of air rapidly, but his love did come for him, dragging him up to the surface, where they both let out gasping breaths, trying to let enough air into their tired lungs.

The Prince pressed a tired kiss to his love’s lips, because they were alive still. He was tired and disgusting - his clothes were covered in sand and it was starting to itch - but at least they were together. They had lived through this challenge just like they had lived through all the others, and like they would persevere even when faced with even more challenges. 

Could luck like this last forever, though? 

“We’re going to die in here,” the Prince forcibly removed more sand from his ensemble. 

“No we’re not,” the Pirate Quentin still had faith in them. “We’ve already figured out the flame spurts and the lightning sand. That’s two out of three dangers sorted.” 

They made progress, and the Prince’s clothes hadn’t caught fire even once. That much was true, but it was still rather a harrowing journey, and they still had many miles to go before they reached the safety of the Dread Pirate Roberts’ ship. Where his crew would undoubtedly be waiting for him - because Quentin simply inspired that kind of loyalty in people. 

However, there was something he wasn’t saying. And that? That was never good. 

“And three?” The Prince refused to let him get away with the omission.

“Rodents of unusual size?” The Pirate laughed dismissively. “Not even Plover believed ROUSes actually existed. Purely fiction he said. Just folk tales, told to scare the children.” 

As if summoned, a truly ghoulish creature leapt at the Dread Pirate Roberts, landing on top of him with its heavy weight. It almost flattened the man, but clearly the rodent - for it was a rodent - had no idea that its victims possessed powerful magic. 

Telekinesis had always been one of the Prince’s gifts, so he moved his hands rapidly in the complicated movements that allowed him to take control of the rodent’s form and fling it into a tree, accidentally impaling it on a tree branch. His magic was a bit more rusty than he’d anticipated, but he managed to vanquish their enemy nonetheless. 

The Pirate let himself be helped up and then dusted himself off, before leading the way through the rest of the forest. They made good time now that they knew what to expect. 

After an hour or so, they found themselves at the edge of the fire swamp. 

“We did it,” Quentin, the dread pirate Coldwater, giddily exclaimed.

The Prince loved him, his face lit up with delight and looking completely harmless and guileless. One would never have expected this man to be the leader of the most fierce band of pirates known throughout the lands. The man who fought monsters of all kinds and defeated them because he was strong and loyal and above all, kind. 

This was why it hurt the Prince to tell his love the truth. 

“You should not have said that,” he said, already seeing weapons from the corner of his eyes. 

Within seconds the men found themselves surrounded by dozens of members of the Dark King’s guard. Arrows were pointed at them from every conceivable direction, as the King looked down on them from his talking horse. The horse was suspiciously quiet. 

“Surrender,” the Dark King ordered imperiously. 

“Are you saying that you want to surrender to me?” Pirate Quentin dared to ask. “Very well, I accept. I will let you surrender.” 

It took everything the Prince had left in him not to exaggeratedly press his palm to his forehead because of the sheer audacity of those words. This was the man he loved.

“We made it through the fire swamp in one piece,” the Prince’s love said, now every inch the Dread Pirate he was supposed to be. “We know of all the dangers. We could live there quite comfortably for a long time. You won’t be on the throne forever - our friends will bring back the rightful High Queen and we will be free. All we have to do is survive until then.” 

There was someone else who belonged on that throne. A woman who was born in this land, who had earned her position on the throne because she was fated to marry the Prince. That marriage had been dissolved due to the Prince’s perceived death, yet the High Queen Fen had earned her position. The Dark King had forcibly taken over when his right hand man had abducted the High Queen and taken her from her friends. He had no true right to the throne, and the Children of Earth had not forgotten. They never would. 

The King’s man could not hide Fen from them forever. 

“They will never find the High Queen Fen,” the man next to the King cackled. 

The entire guard seemed to find the mere idea of it amusing. It seemed as if they knew the High Queen’s fate, and were not concerned that she would be rescued by her friends. It was a disappointing realization, and it worried the Prince that his former wife was never going to be found. It made him consider the option he had always dismissed before: the one that meant that Fen was truly gone for good. That was not something he wished to accept. 

Maybe if he played his cards right, he could find out what the Dark King knew. Maybe that way he could keep everyone safe. He could keep the Dark King from killing his love, and give them all time to recover and try again later, once they had the information they needed. 

“Don’t,” Prince Eliot begged of his love. “Please, my love.” 

The pleading seemed to stop the Pirate in his tracks, at least for a little while. He never had liked hearing his love begging, especially not after what they had been through. All he wanted was to make his Prince happy - and he needed for good to triumph. 

They had to win. They only just found each other again, they could not lose now. 

“My last warning,” the Dark King roared. “Surrender.” 

More of the guards appeared from behind trees, adding to the ominous atmosphere that was building. The only way the Prince and the Pirate could go was back inside the fire swamp, or risk death by getting closer to the Dark King. There was no safe option here. 

“Never,” the Dread Pirate Coldwater vowed. 

“Do you promise not to hurt him?” Prince Eliot had to look away. 

It was not a secret anymore, that he would do absolutely anything to make sure that his true love was safe. While his love was more noble, and willing to fight for good, the Prince just wished for his loved ones to be safe. If that required him to suffer, then so be it. If that required him to give in to a monster, he would. For a while, until he had thought of a better plan - because Prince Eliot always won. And for his love, he would never stop fighting. 

His battles were just of a different nature. 

“Take him back to his ship,” the Prince knew he was begging. “Take me and then allow him to go back to his ship, to his captain. He is a sailor on the Muntjac waiting at the edge of the swamp. It is not far. Just let him leave in one piece.”

Of course the Prince was smart enough not to mention his love’s involvement with the infamous Dread Pirate Roberts. Perhaps that would make the escape easier, or it would allow his Pirate’s men to surprise the guards and maybe even take some of them out. Anything they could do to unbalance the Dark King was a good thing. 

“Please, El,” the Pirate was ready to continue fighting.

“I won’t let you die again,” the Prince touched his forehead to his love’s and took several very deep breaths to settle his emotions. “Not when I can save you.” 

This was simply the course things had to take if he was to save his love, and to gain the forgiveness of the fiercest woman he knew. The wielder of Sorrow and Sorrow had done a lot that required forgiveness as well, but above all she was his Bambi and the Prince had not been there for her when her love was taken from her. He should have done more, should not have dismissed her vows to find High Queen Fen or get her revenge. 

“I will see you again,” the Dread Pirate Coldwater vowed. 

“Nothing can stop us,” Prince Eliot whispered in return. “Peaches.” 

It was almost impossible for either of them to let go. The separation had never been easy, but this was truly difficult. It was the first time after the Pirate’s perceived death, after all. 

“And plums,” his love finished. 

The Prince tried to hide his tremulous smile as he watched his love, as he himself was placed onto the horse behind the King, and they drove away in the direction of Castle Whitespire. All the while, the Pirate watched his Prince with a loving gaze, until the second he was out of sight. 

That was when his entire visage changed. 

“The King is a terrible liar,” the Dread Pirate Coldwater spoke almost mockingly to the King’s wicked lackey. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

There was no response, which meant that the Pirate was correct in his assumption. The lackey merely grinned at him, already anticipating the torture he was going to put the man through in his incredible machine. That was going to require significant feedback from the man who’d kidnapped their Prince from his kidnappers, but the lackey’s machine had ways of making people talk. And there was no understating the importance of feedback. 

“You have six fingers on your right hand,” the Pirate noticed when he got closer. 

The lackey’s hand seemed normal at first sight, until the Pirate’s brain registered that there was something not quite right about it. It took even longer for him to notice that the thing that was wrong was the extra finger on the man’s right hand. The Pirate blinked and then blinked again, before counting his own fingers to make sure this was no dream or trick. 

When he did not detect any such trick, he stared at the lackey some more. 

“Yes?” The lackey did not seem all that concerned. 

“Someone was looking for you,” the Pirate Quentin grinned. 

He was hit over the head, and then everything went black. 

* * *

Julia cleared her throat, which had apparently been getting dry from all of the flowery descriptions of the Waugh/Coldwater love story. Not that Penny actually wanted her to read all of that bullshit. The story of the evil king and the returning mentions of the queen’s disappearance told of a possible plot to this thing that had very little to do with all of the romance bullshit, which was an excellent development. 

Still, just because he hated Coldwater didn’t mean he wanted him to be tortured. 

“Oh, great,” Penny sighed heavily at what was to come, “there’s going to be torture. A lot of it. If Coldwater doesn’t make a heroic escape like he always does, apparently. So what, they kill the king and Eliot and Coldwater continue to be disgusting together?”

Most of these stories just focused on the happy ending, and didn’t actually go into detail about the darker stuff. Which was a good thing, because Penny no longer wished to hear about any of the depressing stuff - Coldwater was never going to be his favorite person, and he really didn’t want to hear any more details about his relationship with Waugh, but the torture was definitely not something he needed to hear about. Though if the sappy stuff could be skipped...

“I’m not skipping ahead,” Julia wasn’t even considering it. 

“Of course not,” Penny totally wasn’t disappointed. 

He just wanted to know if these idiots were going to be okay physically, and he didn’t want to listen to hours of narration about them moping over each other. That was all. Really, it wasn’t like he cared that much about their relationship and a happily ever after. 

“In fact,” Julia just had to make it worse, drawing it out even more. “I think it’s time I take a bit of a break. I’m starving, and I could use a few glasses of water. My throat itches.” 

Was this the actual torture? Was that what was going on here? 

It was taking fucking forever for Kady to get back already, and he still felt weak and exhausted - so maybe he could just sleep through the boring bits. Though he doubted that Julia was going to let him get away with that more than once. She was far too good at seeing through him. 

“You are more evil than I’ve given you credit for,” Penny sighed. 

“I know,” Julia proudly stated. 

She was far too pleased at her perceived victory. Penny kind of appreciated that.

* * *

The people - and non-human citizens - of the land were gathered outside the castle to wait for the official proclamation of the marriage of their King and their beautiful Prince. Guards were present everywhere to make sure that the people and animals showed the appropriate level of excitement. The appropriate level was much higher than any natural approval, seeing as most of the land was not pleased that the Dark King had married their Prince. 

Least of all the Prince himself. 

“I present to you,” the Dark King’s booming voice echoes throughout the courtyard to the forced cheers of the people below. “Once again, High King Eliot of Fillory!”

There are screams of supposed joy, and more cheering, enforced by the presence of the Dark King’s guards. There are creatures and people who knew the Prince - or the High King twice over - before, and those are the least happy beings currently present. Some of them even knew about what he’d abandoned to get to this point. 

“Boo, you whore,” the familiar voice of the Prince’s best friend cuts through the screams. 

“Bambi?” The Prince was not expecting her here. 

The dark-haired beauty had supposedly been drunk, roaming the lands trying to find Fen. She should have been running from the Dark King, seeing as she took Eliot from his home and betrayed him to follow a Librarian. She should have been in great danger just being here, and yet here she was, one Sorrow on her belt, and one in her hand. 

Surprisingly, there had been no joke about dual-wielding and using both hands yet. But this was Margo. Give her time. She would always rise to the occasion. 

“Did you really bail on Quentin again?” Margo scoffed, motioning for the not-quite adoring crowds to hush. “Are you actually that bad of a partner? Do you just leave him whenever you feel a split second of happiness? Because you’re scared of it? Because you’re scared of him?” 

This was not unexpected. Honestly, now High King Eliot should have expected this. 

Instead he just stood there, unable to ignore the fake cheers of the crowd as his best friend showed up with some uncomfortable truths. She truly feared nothing anymore, as the worst had already happened to her: she lost her love. When the same thing happened to the Prince, he’d let it turn him cold and empty and scared. Not her. Not High Queen Margo. She might drink and pout and mourn for a while, and then she moved on to greater things, like saving her love. 

Unlike Eliot, who’d just condemned his love yet again. 

“It’s just Q, El,” Margo was laughing in his face now. “It’s just that same old doofus who tripped over his words for the first year you knew each other. He shouldn’t be scary at all, except he is to you. Because he loves you. He’s seen all these parts of you and he still loves you. And you’re terrified that he’ll stop, and even more terrified that he won’t.” 

No comment. No comment at all. Because if he were to comment, he was going to lie and say that none of that was true. Even though his best friend knew him far too well. She was the only person who did not lie to him. He lied to himself, but Bambi didn’t lie to him. 

Even when it would have been better if she had. 

“Please stop,” Eliot tried to keep his voice level - and mostly succeeded. 

“Congratulations, you’re King again,” his best friend was not going to let up any time soon. “The Cowardly King. The King of Nothing. The King of Lost Love. The King of getting Quentin killed because you won’t ovary the fuck up. Oh, I’m sorry for my language. Is this not that kind of story? Am I supposed to be kid-friendly? Well, fuck that shit.” 

The Prince found it hard not to smile at that, just for a second, while his non-romantic soulmate tried to rip his heart out with the truth. She was fierce and powerful and completely right about everything, and even the crowd was starting to realize that, as the cheers slowly started to turn into loud booing. Slowly but surely, even the guards started participating, starting crowding in closer until he was surrounded by all the disappointment he didn’t want to face. 

And then came the worst truth of all. 

“You killed him, El,” Margo told him. “You sent him away. To his death.” 

Prince Eliot sat up straight in his bed, alone, missing his true love’s warmth at his side. The deadline was getting far too close, and there had been no sign of his favorite Pirate. The King had promised to send out ships, but Eliot was now sure that his fiance had lied to him. 

Still, his love was coming. He had to be. 

* * *

“Good,” Penny said, not even bothering to hide how relieved he was about the turn that the story had taken. “Eliot didn’t actually marry that asshole.” 

Or did he have to specify that Eliot hadn’t married that guy yet? Sure, he was starting to suspect that the Dark King would not make it to the end of this tale alive, but a forced marriage was still a terrible thing. Especially when that idiot was only doing it to keep his friends safe, which was the kind of self-sacrificing move he’d sooner expect from someone like Coldwater. 

That wannabe Gryffindor. 

“Oh, you do care,” Julia really made a point of saying that. 

Which meant that Penny had to say something in return. “Shut up.”

Julia laughed and made sure to wait even longer before she started reading. 

* * *

Two beautiful and powerful women had found each other yet again, out on the fields near Castle Whitespire. The blonde looked like she had not slept since she lost her battle with the Man in Black, while the dark-haired woman had clearly been imbibing too much of the land’s truly awful wine. It seemed that the taste was not an issue for her at this time, though. 

“They’re not going to chase me out again,” the dark-haired woman shouted far too loudly. “I will not be moved. I am not going to let myself be banished again.” 

There was to be a squadron of guards, chasing away anyone who hadn’t been invited to the impending wedding of the beautiful Prince and the Dark King. And while both women should have received an invitation, they were currently wanted criminals after they had managed to kidnap the Prince by order of the mysterious Librarian. If the guards found them, they were to be taken into the Dark King’s custody, possibly never to be seen alive again. 

The blonde woman was hoping for a bit of subtle so that they could remain hidden. 

“Please stop, Margo,” the blonde sighed heavily, doomed to play the responsible adult. 

She too was hurting, they both were. The blonde too had been in love once, but he had been taken from her by the wicked claws of death. Her love had betrayed her and she had barely forgiven him when she almost died. She had betrayed him, and he’d barely forgiven her when he… truly died. They had saved the world, but lost too much in the process, as usual. 

“I will not be moved,” the former High Queen shouted yet again. 

The petite blonde just rolled her eyes, because in the state that her supposed friend was in, she could be moved by just about anyone. Especially someone who possessed the kind of magical skill that they did - they were both very gifted at the physical kind of magics, but it was the dark-haired woman who was impaired by the alcohol. 

Nothing would stop Alice Quinn. Not even a former Queen. Not even Death. 

“I am going to get Fen back,” the drunk woman made an honest vow. 

Her companion just scoffed. “You’re drunk.” 

None of that was untrue, but it was also not enough to stop High King Margo of Earth, a child of Adam. There was nothing or no one who could stop her. Perhaps the Prince could have had a shot at it, but he was locked in the castle until the wedding. 

No one else even stood a chance. Not when Queen Fen was still missing. 

“I need the bandit,” the dark-haired woman tried to sit up, even though the world spun every single time she tried to move. “The pirate guy. Sure, I need you too, I guess. But that guy beat me and you, and presumably that library dickweed. I’m going to ovary up, and I’m going to find that guy, and then I’m going to have Fen back. Because she’s still alive. I know it.” 

The blonde did not wish to shatter that dream, even though she was more aware than most that death was lurking around every corner, and love could be taken away far too easily. So she helped her dark-haired friend stand up, and she cast a tracking spell. 

It led them into the secret passageways and tunnels outside of the Whitespire grounds. When they passed a small lake, the blonde Magician took great pleasure in tripping her companion, hoping that the cold water would wake her from her drink-induced stupor a little. It seemed to work, as the lady Margo sputtered and swore and started moving of her own accord. 

“I’d have run you through with Sorrow and Sorrow if it hadn’t actually helped,” Margo didn’t show any kind of gratefulness or appreciation. “I think we’re close.” 

Alice Quinn pitied whatever fool had assumed that no one would be able to find the Man in Black just because the evil man was hidden behind a secret doorway. It was almost too easy to press the knob on the tree and make their way down into the tunnels. 

The man they were looking for was in the first room they entered, and for a minute there the blonde thought it had been far too easy. She assumed that it was a trick, especially since underneath the mask that the Pirate was no longer wearing, hid a familiar face, currently slack with sleep. Quentin Coldwater was wearing the Pirate’s clothes. 

Her love was here, and unconscious and tied up to a complicated machine. But he was here. 

“Coldwater, you cock,” the dark-haired woman leapt at the man on the machine. “I can’t believe you, you sneaky little shit. Where did you learn to fence like that? You have to tell me everything. After you tell me how you made it out. I looked for you. Dumbass.” 

Any second now, that dumb boy was going to wake up and start apologizing for leaving them that way. For bailing on them when they needed him more than ever. For leaving behind nothing but pain and devastation, because he had been the person who held the group together, more than anyone else. They never would have made it this far without him, and sometimes, when she was sad and lonely, Margo Hanson wished they would not make it any further. 

Not without him, her soulmate’s true love. And not without her Fen. 

“Wake up,” Margo Hanson started prodding her friend. “Wake up so I can kill you for what you put us through. Wake the fuck up. Now!” 

There was no response, as their friend’s body remained completely limp, even though both women were frantically removing his bonds. Even when he was completely unshackled, he still seemed unable to move, unable to wake up. And when the blonde put her head to her love’s chest and tried to listen for a heartbeat, the room was eerily silent. 

“I don’t think he can,” Alice had figured out the truth. 

Once again, she was too late. 

Were there still tears left that she could cry? She hadn’t even gotten him back before he was lost to her once again - all she had was even more proof that they were never going to get their timing right. All that she had was evidence that this was never going to work. 

But she missed him, so very much. More than Margo, she believed. 

“I’m going to kill you,” the dark-haired High King swore at the corpse of their friend. “I’m going to bring you back, kill you, and then bring you back just to kill you again. Q!” 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the former High Queen missed their friend just as much. Perhaps she was just as hurt and disappointed. Perhaps they weren’t all that different. 

“Wait,” Alice could have sworn she felt a pulse at the Pirate’s wrist. 

But that was not possible, right? 

* * *

The groan echoed through the otherwise empty room. 

“Now that’s fucking bullshit,” Penny was somehow getting so very worked up over this stupid story yet again. “Quentin isn’t actually dead, right? Not again. I know I haven’t been around much lately, but I think I’d know if Coldwater was dead again.” 

Not having been around much was kind of an understatement with the whole ‘being dead’ thing, but Penny really did not enjoy talking about it. At least, not using the actual D-word, because it was weird and fucked up and he refused to acknowledge half of the shit that had gone on when he was otherwise occupied. It was just too crazy to be true. 

Like this book. There was no way that was actually a true story. 

“I’m just reading a story,” Julia was sticking with her secretive bullshit still. 

“Do they kill the king?” Penny had to know that much. “Do they kill that asshole?” 

If not all of his classmates - not friends, never friends - were to make it out of this tale alive, Penny at least wanted to know that they’d gotten rid of the bastard who was responsible for this latest collection of pain and death. He had always been a fan of revenge, and at this point the Dark King’s death seemed like the only possible ending to this story that might have been even remotely satisfying. Someone had to pay for what happened. 

“Okay,” Julia was clearly lying about it being okay. “I think you need to calm down.” 

Those words sounded kind of familiar. Like he’d heard them before somewhere, long ago, perhaps before he’d died the first time? Before they’d taken him down to the Neitherlands and the Library and put him to work? Before that time, someone else had told him that same thing. 

Or had they… sung these words instead?

“Don’t quote Taylor Swift at me,” Penny suddenly put it together, groaning yet again. 

“I’ve been friends with Q for long enough,” Julia grinned softly. “I’ve earned that right.”

There was never a right to use Taylor Swift lyrics. That was not some kind of weird, fucked-up friendship level that no one had ever bothered to inform Penny of. Sure, he wasn’t exactly surprised that Coldwater’s particular brand of nerdery had rubbed off on his old friend, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be disappointed. 

At one point, he’d actually thought that Julia Wicker was better than that. 

“Look, just tell me,” Penny was happy to give orders. 

“Just let me read the story,” Julia was not happy to follow said orders. 

Being powerless was a dreadful feeling, and Penny truly hated it. He didn’t want to apologize or play nice, and he didn’t want to hear about all of the ways in which his classmates’ lives had been ruined while he’d been sleeping the sleep of the dead. 

But perhaps there was still a chance. And so he couldn’t take the risk of not knowing. 

“I’ll shut up,” Penny finally, reluctantly sighed. 

For now, at least. But if the Dark King wasn’t dead by the end of this, he was going to destroy the book. With magic. 

* * *

The two women and their dead friend had found themselves in front of a small cottage near Castle Whitespire. It was not the same cottage in which their dead friend had spent fifty years of his life, but it was of a similar size, even though it stank of herbs and potions and other natural enhancers. Alice Quinn made a face at the smell. Margo Hanson inhaled, deeply. 

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” The blonde was less than impressed. 

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” her friend sighed heavily. “I only have one ex of significance, and he’s still a bit pissy that I ditched him for Fen. Even though that was clearly an upgrade and he actually likes Fen. But men and their egos…” 

That they could both commiserate on. For once, the two women were of the same mind in more than one thing. They knew all about men and their egos, and they needed to save the life of their friend if they were ever going to end the Dark King’s tyrannical rule and save the Lady Fen from the clutches of her mysterious assailant. They were willing to go the distance, to attempt to talk to someone who was not very likely to assist either of them. 

Still, they approached the door of the cottage and knocked. 

“No,” the door opened and then immediately closed in their faces. 

It was unsurprising that the Magician they had been looking for did not actually wish to speak to them. However, he was not going to get the option of continuing to ignore them, because there was a life at stake here - a very important life. The life of someone who this very Magician had once cared about to, albeit rather tangentially. 

The life of the person who had saved this Magician from himself with just a song. 

“It’s important,” Alice knew that it was important that he not just talk to Margo. 

“I’m retired,” their supposed miracle worker responded. “No. Go away. Don’t come back. Ever.” 

Did he really think that two of the most stubborn women of his acquaintance were just going to give up because he told them to leave? Truly, his mind must have been addled by the various herbs he was growing on the ground around the cottage - and smoking on the inside of said cottage. It was not surprising that the herbs had such an effect on him. 

Still, it did not mean that either of them would give up on their mission. 

“It’s Quentin,” Alice was worried that this would not be enough to get them help. 

“No,” was the answer, yet again. 

Nevertheless, they persisted. Nevertheless, they continued to try to save this idiot of a man they both cared about. He had always been the key, had always been the strongest link that held their chain together, and Alice Quinn and Margo Hanson would be damned if they let that chain break just when they had found their missing link again. One of them, anyway. 

But with all of them together, perhaps they could make sure they were truly whole again, dragging even the final missing imbecile from his resting place. 

“Please, he’s dead,” Alice Quinn knew all about the power of that word. “We only just found him, but he’d been killed again. Please. It’s for true love. It’s important. We need you, Josh.” 

True love, she said, even though the dead man had not been her true love. Perhaps he could have been once, when she was a fox in the cold looking for her mate, but not anymore. It had been too late, and too much harm had been done on both sides for them to ever go back to that healthy place. No matter how she had tried to cling to him before. 

It had been too late for them even then. They were always only going to get a bit of borrowed time before their house of cards collapsed on top of them. 

“I need him,” Margo was so very determined, “to find my love.” 

Now that was probably the least helpful thing that the former High Queen could have said, and they all knew it. She had effectively managed to undo all of the progress that Alice had made. 

“Oh, the woman you left me for didn’t stick around either?” 

Never let it be said that Josh Hoberman did not hold a grudge. 

“Please,” Alice said again. “It’s Quentin. Please.” 

Dignity was unimportant if it kept them from being reunited with their friend. Margo had too much pride to plead and to beg, and while Alice disliked it too, she was at least slightly more willing to bend. For Quentin. She’d do just about anything for him. 

“Well, he’s only mostly dead,” Josh had figured out that much. “So there’s that.” 

Mostly dead? Now that was something that neither of the women in the cottage had ever heard of before, except maybe in fictional tales that had to have been exaggerated. In real life, people were either dead or they were alive. There was no such thing as mostly dead. 

“So you can help him?” Alice had to ask. 

“Maybe,” Josh didn’t seem convinced. “It’s hard. And expensive, and I’m not sure he’d even want me to do it. There was a reason that he never came back from the Seam.” 

The reason was that he had been dead. That the library had gotten that one last victory before their leader had perished as well. There had been a great sacrifice that night, and there had been doubts that they’d never spoken aloud, but there was no doubt now that Quentin Coldwater had wanted to come back. If not, he would not have turned himself into the Dread Pirate Roberts, coming back to save his love of multiple lives. Margo’s soulmate. 

“What do you have to live for, huh?” The great Miracle Josh was actually questioning him. 

Quentin’s body let out a wheeze that sounded suspiciously like “True love”. 

It stung. Alice was not going to pretend that it didn’t. It was starting to become more and more clear to her that she was not this true love that Quentin was talking about. It hurt, in the way a cut did before it healed. She was going to need some time for that to happen, but she was mostly sure that she would get there, and that Quentin would get his true love. 

If the supposed miracle worker managed to actually wake him up. 

“He said true love,” Margo shouted into their friend’s face. 

“He did not,” of course Josh had to deny it. “Sorry not sorry, Alice, but there’s no way that toxic shit that you two were doing is true love. Not anymore.” 

Josh probably could have said that more kindly, but he was clearly still mad and frustrated and in over his head. It didn’t mean that Margo didn’t slap him on the back of the head, but it also didn’t mean that he wasn’t right. Because he was. Right. 

“I know,” Alice simply responded. “It’s not about me.” 

It was about the Prince and the Pirate, of High King Eliot and King Quentin, of El and Q, of the men who’d apparently already gotten to grow old together once. The men who’d deserved another chance to get there. It was about true love. 

And revenge. Margo decidedly thought it was about revenge as well. 

“What is it about, then?” Josh was now just there for some gossip. 

“Hey, idiot,” the former High King of the land had finally had enough of this. “This is Q. Quentin. Of course he has a true love. Just because you have your hetero goggles on, doesn’t mean it’s not real. He’s Eliot Waugh’s true love. If you heal him, he’s going to stop the royal wedding. Don’t you wanna fuck over that asshole Dark King? What a pretentious name anyway.” 

Josh had been in Castle Whitespire when that man had taken over, and he had been on his way out when Fen had disappeared without a trace. He knew exactly the kind of bad things that had gone on in the castle when they had been too busy trying to save the Prince and the Goddess from a Monster and Quentin from himself. So of course Josh too would want revenge. 

“So the king suffers?” Josh sounded positively gleeful at that. 

Margo too was grinning. “Humiliation the likes of which you’ve never seen before.” 

They were a vindictive bunch, and for once, Alice Quinn was perfectly alright with that. It was going to get them Quentin back, alive and mostly in one piece. They could do the rest of it, as long as Josh made sure that Quentin would not die this day. He had already died - or almost died - too many times for any of their comfort. This time they actually had a chance to make it better - and if this worked, perhaps they could try bringing another friend back after. 

“If you save him now,” Alice had to add that condition. 

“I can do that,” Josh finally decided. 

He started fiddling with herbs and moving his hands in patterns not even Alice, who could have been a Knowledge student, could comprehend. That was just something that was particular to Josh’s discipline, though Alice wished she could learn that too. It could save people. 

“My miracle pill,” Josh finally revealed something that only vaguely resembled a pill. 

Alice looked at Margo, and Margo looked at Alice. That thing was probably just as likely to poison Quentin, killing him for good, as it was likely to save him. 

“Here goes nothing,” Margo forced their mostly dead friend to ingest the pill. 

“Now, it’s going to take him about thirty minutes to wake up,” Josh only then revealed the possible side-effects for his medicine. “He might be a bit groggy and/or stoned for a while there, and he definitely shouldn’t go swimming for at least an hour.”

It was not like they had planned to go swimming - no, their only plan was to rush back to the Castle and start their attack. The wedding would happen that very day, and there was very little time to make sure that Quentin was back to normal before they started to take on the Dark King’s guard. Before Eliot was actually stuck with that man as a husband. 

Though, if necessary, they could make Eliot a widower before the day was out. 

“Stoned?” Alice finally figured out the real issue. 

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Margo’s hand was already reaching for Sorrow. 

She was determined that Quentin was somehow going to lead them to the man who had taken Fen - and now that she knew it was Quentin, she was probably almost equally determined to make sure that these idiots didn’t cock this up yet again. 

Because they were men, and therefore idiots. 

“Should have read the fine print,” Josh was so very triumphant. 

“There was nothing to read,” Margo was not amused. “I’d kill you if we didn’t have to hurry. Eliot has already had one ill-advised marriage, I’m not making him do it again.”

When thinking about it for a while, it was quite odd that the lady Fen had once been married to High King Eliot, and was now romantically tied to the High King Margo. It had never been a point of contention between the two friends, however, seeing as they had shared many a partner before. Even Quentin had not escaped untouched. 

Though Alice wished that had happened when they had not been together. 

Still, it had been so long, and they had both moved on. They had more important things to worry about at the moment. There was an entire land they needed to save from a Dark King, and friends to return from dark places.They would have time to heal after they won. 

And so it was time for them to leave the odd-smelling cottage and its odd inhabitant behind, still dragging the body of Quentin Coldwater along by magic. 

“Have fun storming the castle,” Josh called out after them as they departed, only to softly mutter under his breath, “they’re all gonna die.” 

Josh waved at them from his porch, and it had seemed nice until he had said that other thing, and Margo was definitely not going to let him get away with that. 

“I heard that,” Margo roared. 

The great Miracle Josh rushed back into his house before she could catch him. 

* * *

“Now what do we do?” Margo Hanson, it seemed, did not actually have a plan. 

“We wait for Quentin to wake up,” Alice decided. “And we plan. We need a way in, and we have about five minutes left to come up with one. More like four, now.”

From their perch near the castle’s gates, they could see the final guests making their way inside. The ceremony was about to start, and they still had not figured out just how they were going to get inside the building without getting locked up almost immediately. They were wanted criminals, and they were certain that the Dark King would have done anything he could to make sure that Quentin was not to come back. Though by now, the King probably assumed that Quentin was dead by his right hand man’s… hand. 

Or had the King been the one to land the final, metaphorical blow? 

“They don’t know Quentin is alive,” Alice knew they at least had that advantage. 

“We don’t know either,” Margo was not a glass half full kind of person. “He might not even be able to do anything. Stoned is not a particularly good look on him, I’m sure, and I’m not really up for doing any kind of babysitting. The man who took Fen is here, I just know it.”

That was not a plan though, only the suggestion that Alice would soon be dealing with her ex-lover’s unconscious body all by herself. Which was not the best of ideas. 

“So what do you suggest?” Alice was not all that impressed. “Brute force and intimidation?”

She could see that her friend was actually considering that plan, which probably should not have been all that surprising. Margo always did favor plans that required intimidation, and any plan that allowed her to bring out Sorrow and Sorrow was an automatic favorite. Honestly, Alice was pretty sure that she should have at least tried other options first. 

“It’s what I’m good at,” Margo did not dislike this plan. “That and stabbing people.”

Margo was not wrong, but she was also discounting her more cunning abilities - both of their proficiency at cunning plans and using their brains. Should they not rely on cunning or trickery instead of blasting their way inside? They were so badly outnumbered. 

Not even the Dread Pirate… Quentin could change that. 

Oh, that was not a very good name. No wonder he’d stuck with the Dread Pirate Roberts thing. 

A groan sounded, as if the mere thought of him had managed to bring Quentin back to life. It had never been that easy, and there was no way to tell what else the magic had done to him, but at least he was starting to wake up now. That was surely an excellent sign, a sign that the pill-like substance had managed to have an effect after all. 

“Quentin,” Alice tried her best to gently rouse him. “Time to wake up.” 

The great Margo Hanson was not going to be nearly as gentle, as she prodded at her friend until he started trying to move his body away from her, even though it did not particularly seem to want to cooperate with him. It seemed like it took quite a lot of effort for him to even manage to shake his head. And briefly too. 

“What’s going on?” Quentin finally managed to slur. 

“Oh, thank  _ fuck _ ,” Margo said, with feeling. “You’re awake. I was starting to think that Hoberman had fucked us over. I wouldn’t be surprised. Just disappointed, and ready for vengeance.”

Wasn’t Margo Hanson always ready for vengeance? She had always been particularly bloodthirsty, and becoming High Queen and later High King had only exacerbated that particularly charming character trait. 

“How are you feeling?” Alice felt she had the right priorities here. 

“Weird,” Quentin said, already sagging. “So weird. Not drunk, but weird. What happened?”

Quentin was barely sitting up, leaning against a stone wall, occasionally trying to move his fingers, but not having very much luck. It seemed the mostly dead situation was not an easy thing to recover from. That definitely put a damper on their grand plans. 

“We found you in some kind of dank dungeon,” Margo started to explain. “Not the sex dungeon of some kind of creepy businessman, but an actual medieval-style dungeon. You were tied to some kind of machine, and mostly dead. Well, we thought you were actually dead for a second there, but Josh explained that you were only mostly dead. Apparently that’s a thing.” 

Yes, it was truly a time of discovery for everyone. Still, Margo was feeling the urgency thrumming in her blood. There was only so little time left for them to save Eliot from another unwanted marriage - and save their favorite magical land from a Dark King and the love of Margo’s lavish life from whoever was keeping her. 

So much to do, so little time. 

“Slow down, please,” Quentin gently requested. 

“No time to slow down,” Margo had decided to go full throttle. “This idiot we know and love is about to sacrifice himself by getting married to the Dark King. Clearly that dude is the reason you were mostly dead, so I assume you’re with us on the whole vengeance thing.” 

The blonde woman was not sure that her friend was on the right track here, as Quentin’s vision seemed decidedly… vague. He was barely able to look at them, could not seem to focus on one thing, instead staring off into space as if it held all the answers to all of his problems. That clearly could not be the case, as Quentin had far too many problems to solve. 

“Margo?” Quentin finally seemed to recognize her. “Alice?”

They were behind schedule already, and they still didn’t even have a plan. How were they supposed to get themselves together in just a dozen or so minutes? 

“Where’s El?” Quentin had to ask. 

“I don’t have the fucking time for this,” Margo Hanson was now every inch the High King she’d once been. “I’ve explained this already. He’s marrying the king in like fifteen minutes. We need to storm this castle right the fuck now. Don’t be such a floppy cock, you asshole.” 

It seemed as if Quentin had grasped very little of that whole conversation, as he continued to stare off into space with a dreamy smile starting to appear on his face. Funny, as Quentin had never before responded in that particular way to receiving a tongue-lashing from the great Margo Hanson. He was usually much more prone to cowering. 

“Eliot,” Quentin said, and Alice was sure she felt her heart break. 

That was that, then. That last hope that there was still a maybe out there for them was gone. There was no maybe to be had, not when Quentin spoke Eliot’s name in that tone of voice, like the dandy Prince was actually his salvation. 

True love truly was the most powerful thing in the world. 

“We’re going to save Eliot,” Alice still tried to get on with the show. 

“Alright, alright,” Quentin tried to sit up straight again, and barely managed. “What do you need me to do? It’s Eliot, I’m pretty sure I’d do just about anything.” 

Just as Margo would do anything for Fen, or even for her other soulmate. Alice had never been the kind of person who would do anything for someone else - for the right cause, absolutely, but never just for one person. Not when there was the greater good to worry about. 

“Let’s storm the castle then,” Margo grinned a particularly evil grin. “All we need is a magical diversion, maybe stir up some shit between some talking animals. They’ve always liked me.” 

As Margo murder-walked away from them, it was up to Alice to get Quentin back on his feet, awkwardly lifting him up until all of his not inconsiderable weight was leaning on her - it was not as heavy as she had expected, though, probably seeing as he had not been taken care of for the past few days, or even weeks. She was not aware of how long he had been imprisoned. 

“I’m sorry, Vix,” Quentin started to sound much more clear-minded. 

“I’m sorry too,” Alice knew it was the right thing to say. “I missed you. I’m glad you’re back. But I think it’s about time we break up. Officially.” 

It was probably too little too late already. It had been years since they had been together, and even then it had just been mere weeks - and while Alice Quinn did not know just what had happened when Quentin had saved his Eliot from the evil Librarian, she could guess. She doubted that it had remained strictly platonic. Not when true love was at stake. 

Because it was true love. She knew that now. 

“I’m sorry,” Quentin repeated again. 

“I know, “ Alice cringed at the unintentional reference. “I’m not saying that it’s okay, because it kind of isn’t. But I still wish you every happiness. And I’m still going to help you.” 

After this, after they’d saved Eliot and destroyed the Dark King, Alice was going to need some time away from Quentin’s impending happiness. But now, she would join him nonetheless, dragging him along as he finally started to figure out how to hold his head up for a while. 

A short while, at least. 

“Thank you,” Quentin said, head lolling onto her shoulder a bit. 

“Enough with the drama,” Margo had returned, and without her limited patience. “Time to get on with this. My friends over there are already rioting. Time is precious, and all that.” 

For once, Alice sucked it up and followed High King Margo’s lead without questioning her too much, letting Margo take at least part of Quentin’s weight as they approached the castle gate, where only the captain of the guards was still waiting for them. The other guards had been distracted by the talking animal riots incited by Margo. 

“Give us the gate key,” Quentin managed to make himself sound intimidating. 

‘“Gate key?” The guard was not that good at lying. 

Still, the man did not appear to be particularly intimidated by the two women and the man they were still dragging along just the slightest bit. Though for Quentin, moving appeared to get easier by the second. Perhaps by the time they got to the actual wedding, he’d be able to stand on his own two feet. Though Alice Quinn didn’t hold out too much hope for that. 

“Alright,” Alice knew that this man was not going to see her as a threat, so she turned to her friends. “Margo, time to draw your swords. Sorrow and Sorrow have seen too little action.”

The glint of metal, of the dual swords that Margo carried with such confidence, appeared to be more than enough to have the guard change his tune. 

“Oh, this gate key?” 

Yes, this was a far better tune. Far more pleasing to the ear. 

* * *

Prince Eliot was standing at the altar, ready to once again get married to someone who was not the love of his life. At least last time he had grown to care about his spouse. He held no such hopes for this marriage. This marriage would only end in pain and death. 

He just hoped that the death in question was not his. 

“Your majesties,” Tick Pickwick was naturally delighted to perform the ceremony. 

That brown-noser had played nice with every ruler of the land, just so he could have a shot at power. The second the Dark King slipped, Tick Pickwick was going to start his own incompetent attempt at a coup. The Prince knew that this would not turn out nearly as well for him as it had the last time the man had tried. They always seemed to have bad luck with rulers, but somehow the Children of Earth always managed to find their way back onto the throne. 

“We are gathered here today,” Tick Pickwick continued with the boring stuff. 

It was so very easy to tune him out and keep an ear out for trouble. Because there would be trouble, the Prince believed that with all of his shriveled heart. His love was going to come for him today - they had found each other again and again, because something had decided that they deserved another chance at growing old together. 

They already had proof of concept, all they needed was a chance to prove it had merit. 

After a few minutes of pondering, there was a rumbling at the door, voices raised and trying to overpower one another. Now the Prince did not recognize any of the voices in particular, but he knew that this would have to be a part of the plan. Their plans never went so smoothly as they did when causing trouble was involved. They were just so very good at it. 

Clearly it was not just his Q fighting to get to him. They were not alone. 

“Looks like my love is coming, asshole,” Prince Eliot was always one to gloat. 

“He can’t,” the supposed Dark King tried hard to keep a straight face. “I killed him myself.” 

That stung, just the idea that they had managed to throw away yet another chance to be together. They had been lucky to get the second one, and even luckier to get the third. At this point, even the great Eliot Waugh had lost count of how many chances they’d had. 

He just knew that they deserved one more. Just one more, and they would get it right. Just one more, and he would be brave and honest and true this time around. 

So Quentin Coldwater could not be dead. Eliot was not going to let that happen. 

“Then why do you look so scared?” The Prince saw right through this Dark King. 

It was not particularly obvious to any of the man’s subjects, but to someone like the Prince, who was so very good at seeing through the airs that people put on - it was far too simple to spot the slight widening of the idea, and the way that the King could no longer stand as sure and strong as he had been before the distant echoes of rebellion sounded through the halls. 

“Pronounce us married, now,” the Dark King tried to cheat his way through the ceremony. 

“I had a lot more important things to say,” Tick Pickwick was clearly disappointed that his moment in the spotlight was now being cut short. “I was going to talk about love being patient, and kind, and… I now pronounce you husband and husband.” 

Surely that was not the end of it. Surely this travesty was not going to be allowed to stand as an actual, legally binding wedding. Eliot had not been allowed to say anything, he had never consented to this ridiculous charade. 

“Take him to the honeymoon suite,” the Dark King ordered his guards. 

This had all happened far too quickly. Maybe if they had not rushed through the ceremony so, Quentin would have had time to come rushing in, perfectly timed to the moment where Tick would have asked if anyone had any objections. Sure, the Prince had more than a few objections of his own, but it was far more dramatically satisfying if it was his love who showed up and made that statement. It would be like the romance movies Eliot totally did not care for. 

“He didn’t come,” Eliot could not believe that this was happening yet again. 

How could this be happening to him again? 

“How nice to see you,” Eliot smiled vacantly at the Dark King’s entourage as he was forced to leave. “Yes, so happy you’re here. Truly. No, sadly I won’t be seeing you again. Why? Well, I’m going to kill myself when we reach the honeymoon suite.” 

Sure, the sarcasm might have been a bit much, but Quentin still wasn’t here, and yet Eliot was married again. Supposedly. He had his doubts, still. 

* * *

Once they had gotten the gate key from the suddenly extremely cooperative captain of the guards, it was rather easy to make their way into the labyrinthine halls that were once so familiar to them. They had each spent some time wandering these halls, perhaps Margo most of all, but even Alice - as the land’s former Queen - was familiar with the general layout of the place. 

“Get ready,” Margo grinned far too happily. “They’ll be coming for us.” 

It seemed as though Sorrow and Sorrow were just as pleased at that as their owner was. The blades were not actually magical in that they were not actually in possession of a personality, yet it seemed as if they were currently moving on their own, without Margo’s power. 

“You are far too happy about that,” Quentin’s face was wearing the slightest hint of a grin. 

“I do like a little violence for the right cause,” the former High King was thrilled. 

To Alice Quinn, it seemed a bit… declasse to get this excited about violence. But she was not the most vindictive one of the bunch, and also not the person with the most to lose here. She did not have any particularly large stake in this, except for her determination to do the right thing here, to perhaps make up for the time when she had perhaps not done that. 

This time, she was going to do better. 

“Any cause is the right cause for you and violence,” Alice was less than excited about this particular choice of strategy. “I would suggest approaching carefully. They already ended the wedding early. We need to get to Eliot first. Where would he be?” 

It was almost easy to answer that question, as they had all spent a significant amount of time in the palace, and Eliot had always had certain standards about his rooms. Even though he was hardly more than the Dark King’s prisoner at this point, there was still the issue of keeping up appearances - which meant that there was no way that the Dark King could leave his fiance in one of the less than ostentatious rooms. Eliot did so love the ostentatious. 

One second they were alone in the hallways, the next they were faced with half a dozen members of the guard, and the Dark King’s mysterious right hand man. 

“Kill them,” the mysterious man said. “And leave the third for questioning.” 

Before Alice could lash out with her magic, Margo had already taken care of the first two men. As she fought with two blades, while the guards only had one, they were no match for her cunning and speed. Quentin was the weak link at the moment, still not quite recovered from Miracle Josh’s supposed magic pill. Still, six men against the three of them? Far too easy. 

“Any more where that came from?” Margo asked the one man still standing. 

There was no response from the man, as he appeared to be trying to figure out just how things could have gone awry so. There was no explanation other than that the guards had been up against truly exceptional foes. Compared to what they’d been through, this was nothing. 

Then, with a single passing glance, everything changed. 

“You have six fingers on your right hand,” the High King Margo smirked at the man. 

Sorrow and Sorrow were still in her hands, and she was more than prepared to use them. Alice watched as the weaselly figure slowly started to pale as he put everything together. Clearly he had not anticipated that Margo Hanson would know who he was, and he certainly had not anticipated her great skill with her dual blades. He was caught off guard. 

It was rather delicious, even Alice thought so. 

“Hello,” Margo said, not even waiting for confirmation from the weasel’s end. “My name is Margo Hanson. You took my love. Prepare to die.” 

Naturally, instead of unsheathing his own blade, the cowardly man ran from Margo, without even saying so much as another word. Margo started running immediately, not willing to let go of the only chance she had of getting her vengeance for Fen. Or perhaps even some actual answers about what had happened to her and where she was now. 

Alice Quinn looked at Quentin, stumbling around and taking breaks to lean against the wall, and knew that there was a choice to be made here. Quentin needed her more, but she could make more of a difference if she were to follow Margo into battle. 

“Alice, please,” Margo surprised her with that last word. “Just leave him. He can’t exactly go off anywhere. I just need you to help me get in here. He has Fen, Alice. Please.” 

Ah, so there was a magical door, then. Alice had always been good at those. 

So she pointed at Quentin, silently telling him to stay where he was, before running after Margo and hoping that the magical door was not needlessly complicated. She really would not be able to stand another magical key quest. But no, the door was not far, and it was not particularly complicated - it merely required cooperative magic that was not to be performed alone. There was no way that Margo would have been able to do this by herself. 

After a few seconds, the door opened and Margo rushed through, without even taking as much as a glance at Alice, or even showing appreciation. That just figured. 

When Alice returned to where she’d left Quentin, however, she found herself alone in the hallway. Or, well, surrounded by nothing but the bodies of the guards Margo had dealt with. 

“Quentin?” She called, hearing it echo through the hallway. “Where are you?” 

There was no response. And no matter which direction she looked in, there was no sign of the idiot Pirate Coldwater. Which meant that Alice was once again on her own, the only one thinking about how they were going to get out of here after they had gotten rid of the Dark King. They were probably going to need some kind of exit strategy. 

Even though they were overthrowing the current ruler and his fraud of a government. 

“Am I the only person using their brain around here?”

Honestly, sometimes Alice was pretty sure she was the only one thinking clearly. 

* * *

Eliot was (sort of) married and Quentin still was not here, and that was a damn tragedy. 

It meant that he found himself in the King’s attempt at a honeymoon suite, idly fiddling with a dagger he’d managed to liberate from one of the Dark King’s lackeys, supposedly so concerned for Eliot’s wellbeing that they had to escort him to this suite in person. 

Make sure he wouldn’t run away or hurt himself, more likely. 

“Please don’t hurt yourself,” an annoyingly familiar voice sounded just as Eliot twirled the dagger in his fingers. “There’s not enough perfect dicks in the world. Don’t deprive me of yours.” 

He stuttered out a laugh before he was even aware that he’d done it, then tried to put a more impassive look back on his face. Because sure, Quentin was here now. But where had he been when Tick Pickwick had pronounced Eliot married to the damn Dark King? Why was he only showing up now, lying down on the very bed where Eliot was probably supposed to consummate his new marriage? Lying down like he was a centerfold, too. 

The kind of centerfold that Eliot could only dream of, dressed in black still, but without that ridiculous mask and with his hair pulled back so Eliot could see his stupidly adorable face with its faux-seductive look. Didn’t Q know that he didn’t even have to try to seduce Eliot? 

He’d won that battle long ago, in a cottage built for two. Or before that, even. 

“Q,” Eliot breathed, stupidly charmed but trying not to show it. “Q, you asshole. I can’t believe that’s your - Wait, you think my dick is perfect?” 

Sure, Quentin had said something along those lines once or twice (or hundreds of times) before, but that had mostly been in the throes of passion, which meant that Eliot was not allowed to use it as evidence that he’d actually meant it. 

Only Eliot Waugh could reason himself out of his true love being in love with him. 

“Timing, Eliot?” Quentin, his love, asked with a wry grin. 

“Q, you’re here,” Eliot could not stop saying his name. “You’re alive.” 

It was that easy. Eliot was that easy now that his love was once again alive and on his bed like he was just waiting for Eliot to join him. So why would he not join him? Their time together was sadly not unlimited, and the odds of the Dark King showing up were stupidly high. So why would Eliot not enjoy himself while he had the chance? 

After all, he needed to make sure that Quentin was actually there, and whole, with all parts attached and in proper working order. Clearly that was going to require a test drive. 

“Gently,” Quentin hissed when Eliot climbed on top of him. 

“That’s new,” Eliot teased. 

He tried to listen, flipping them over so Quentin was not pressed into the mattress by Eliot’s lanky body. Quentin had always liked that position before, except this time the response was kind of lackluster. Quentin had just flopped down on top of him. 

“Is this you requesting cuddles before we-” 

* * *

“I can’t hear this,” Penny interrupted. 

“But I was just getting to the good part,” Julia sounded far too innocent. 

Honestly, at this point Penny would not have been surprised to find out that Julia Wicker was actually the mysterious author of this ridiculous book. She was far too interested in telling him the story, and being an annoying completist about it too. Though she’d kindly stopped it with the ridiculous epithets after he complained about it. Still...

How did she not get that not everyone wanted the E-rated version of this? Though, honestly, it had barely gotten close to an M rating. Penny had managed to stop her in time. 

“How is hearing about Waugh and Coldwater gently boning the good part?” Penny simply could not comprehend such a thing. “You’re kinkier than I gave you credit for.” 

Penny was pretty sure that best friends were not supposed to want to read about each other’s love life in great detail. When he sat up a bit to sneak a peek at the book, he saw some words that he could never unsee - ever. Why would he ever need to know that Eliot’s… dick was apparently proportional? Why was that necessary?

Maybe Eliot was the author. 

“Learned that from the other Penny,” Julia apparently had another bomb to drop. “Oh, right, did I not tell you? We totally had a thing going. Really good in bed too.” 

He did not want to say that it blew his mind, except it really kind of did. Because Julia now knew all of these things about him (well, not him, but kind of him), and he had no ammunition to use in return, and he really did not want to think about her and Kady sharing notes. 

“Please shut up,” Penny was in anguish here. 

Hearing about the idiots making love had to be better than this. 

* * *

A few rooms away from the lovers’ reunion, Margo Hanson was surprised to find out that the six-fingered man was harder to defeat than she’d expected. He used his blades with alarming alacrity, and for once - or twice - Margo was not the only person wielding dual blades. 

Even the Dread Pirate Coldwater would have been impressed - and then disappointed. And sad, because there was simply no way for Margo to best him with Sorrow and Sorrow. Her arms were tiring, and she was bleeding from several small wounds on her arms and a bigger one near her gut. Another blow like that, and she would be done for. 

How did it happen like this, so easily? Had she gotten cocky? 

“Fen, I’m sorry,” the former High King sighed, knowing all was lost. 

Perhaps Fen was already lost. Perhaps Fen had been lost to her the second this six-fingered man had taken her away, and Margo had merely been chasing a ghost all along. Perhaps she had been fooling herself to think that Fen was still alive, waiting for Margo to come and rescue her from her tormentors. Fen had never been a damsel, and she never would have given up the fight, never would have stopped fighting to get back to Margo. 

Except Margo had failed at her part in all of this. 

“Giving up already?” The mysterious man mocked her mercilessly. “So willing to fight for your great love, and then so quick to abandon her when it gets hard. Truly, the Lady Fen would be so very disappointed to find out that the supposedly great Margo Hanson couldn’t do it.” 

That was his mistake. Using Fen’s name, daring to say that name when Margo Hanson was still breathing. That was her reason for fighting, the sliver of hope that she still had that they would be reunited one day, if she just fought hard enough and beat enough villains and chased down leads… until they found each other again.

Until they too were reunited, like Quentin and Eliot had been. 

“Back for more?” The six-fingered moron really had no idea what he was in for. 

“Hello,” Margo grinned. “My name is Margo Hanson. You took my love. Prepare to die.” 

And she dropped Sorrow and Sorrow to the ground, not even flinching at the clattering sound they made hitting the castle floors. Because she was Margo Hanson, former High Queen and High King of Fillory, the biggest badass who ever lived. 

“Hello,” she repeated. “My name is Margo Hanson. You took my love. Prepare to die.” 

She didn’t need a sword to win from this pathetic man. 

“Hello,” “My name is Margo Hanson. You took my love. Prepare to die.” 

Because she was a fucking Magician. 

“Stop saying that,” the weasel could not handle it any longer. 

Margo did not even have to think about the spell, mindlessly preparing it while she grinned at the now terrified six-fingered man. If she played her cards right, she wouldn’t even need to use all that much magic. Because she owned him now, his every pathetic cell. 

He was terrified of her already. Properly terrified. As he should have been the whole time. 

“Offer me something,” Margo offered her enemy an opportunity to bargain with her. 

“Anything?” The six-fingered man made it sound like a question the first time. “Anything.” 

If she was a selfish woman, like she perhaps had been once, she would have gladly accepted that offer and made the pathetic weasel into her slave. Hell, she had always liked the idea of having a little slave minion who had to do everything she said. Todd had always talked back too much to properly fulfill that particular fantasy. 

Ew, the thought of Todd fulfilling any fantasy was enough to bring her back to reality. 

“Offer me everything I ask for,” Margo was holding back the final movement of her spell. 

“Anything you want,” the six-fingered man pleaded, terrified of what horrors would be unleashed if Margo just let herself finish the last formation. “Anything.” 

Sadly for this pathetic weasel, there was only one thing left that Margo wanted, and it was not anything that this liar was going to be able to give her. He had baited her enough for Margo to figure out that he did not actually know anything about Fen - nothing that was actually going to help Margo reunite with her love. And even if he had known, he never would have told her.

So she revealed her demands to him. 

Margo’s grin was positively feral. “I want Fen back, you sick fuck.” 

With a single tut, the six-fingered man was history. 

* * *

In a nearby bedroom, things were once again heating up, when… 

“I think I got married,” Eliot hated to pull back from Q, but he had to. “I didn’t want to, but…” 

It had been a while since these two had last spoken, instead keeping themselves otherwise occupied, trying to reassure themselves that their partner was actually here, trying to map out the differences that years apart had wrought in their bodies. There were no words necessary for something like that, until Eliot realized that there was something very important he had somehow forgotten to tell his love. Quentin really had been quite distracting. 

“Never happened,” his lovely Q just smiled at him, a hand on Eliot’s cheek. “You never said I do, did you? You didn’t say it, so you didn’t do it. Right, your highness?” 

No, Eliot had never actually said the words before the wedding was suddenly over and he was forcibly escorted to his rooms. Where he had to wait for his so-called husband, who was now here and not pleased to find Eliot with his arms around another man. 

“A technicality,” the Dark King was quick to shrug off the non-existent validity of their marriage, “which will be remedied shortly. First things first: to the death.” 

No. Eliot was not going to let that happen. Quentin clearly was not well, and even though his skills with a blade were unlike anything Eliot had expected from a lovable nerd like his Q, he was not going to beat the Dark King when he was barely able to move on his own power. Q might have thought that he was covering it up reasonably well, but Eliot had always seen far too much of him. He knew that something was still very wrong here. 

They needed a distraction, and that was something he had always been quite good at. 

“To the pain,” the King’s supposed husband suddenly had a much better idea. 

“What does that mean, to the pain?” The Dark King simply had to know. 

It meant nothing in particular, and it meant every horrific torturous thing that Eliot could think of to defend the both of them from the Dark King. It meant stalling and trying to think of a plan that might get them all out of here in one piece - because Eliot was going to be damned if he let his Q get hurt ever again. Nothing was going to stop true love - that was how that worked. 

So if he had to get a little ridiculous, and a little scary, that was just fine by him. 

“To the pain means this,” Eliot was channeling the great Margo Hanson for this part, because she could intimidate like no one else. “If you duel him and you win, death for me. Not him. Me. If you duel him and we win, life for you. But life on my terms. On our terms.”

Eliot glanced at his love, at his Q, and found out that he somehow knew exactly where Eliot was going with this. Even though he was weak as a newborn colt still - and Eliot knew exactly what that looked like - Quentin was willing to play the game. He was just lazing on Eliot’s bed now, looking for all the world like he belonged there, and like he would kill to stay right there. But that was a whole new set of feelings that Eliot was not ready to deal with just yet. 

“What would those terms be?” The Dark Douche was considering it, it seemed. 

Ah, yes, that was a much more productive way to deal with things. 

“The first thing you lose will be your feet,” Eliot let a smile play on his face, because he was always up for a dramatic monologue. “Your feet below the ankle. You will have stumps available to use within six months. A mere six months of crawling everywhere will do you some good. Then your hands, at the wrists. They heal somewhat quicker. Five months of helplessness is a fair average for that one. Next your nose. No smell of dawn for you. Followed by your tongue. Deeply cut away. Not even a stump left. And then your left eye—"

Honestly, if the Dark King hadn’t coughed pointedly, Eliot could have gone on a while. He had this whole train of thought about how the ears were going to be the last thing they cut off, just so that wretched man could hear the shrieks when people looked at him. 

Well, guess he needed to save that until the next time Todd was particularly infuriating. 

“I think I could win,” Quentin was willing to play along. 

“I think you’re bluffing,” the Dark King could not be completely sure of that, though. 

And that was the rub. There was no way for that waste of breath to be sure that Quentin was as weak as a newborn kitten right now, and probably twice as cuddly. 

“It’s possible,” Quentin just shrugged, cooler than he had ever been. 

Perhaps he had learned a thing or two in the years that he had been separated from his Eliot, because the Quentin Coldwater of before never would have been able to pull this off without stammering and showing everything that he actually had a terrible hand that was never going to win him the pot. He had a terrible poker face, and Eliot adored that about him. 

Though, this new attitude? It had a lot of potential as well. 

“It is possible, you warthog-faced buffoon,” Eliot had found the perfect insult. “Perhaps he has no strength left at all. But how would you know? How could you be sure that the Dread Pirate Roberts himself is not just waiting to cut you down where you stand? Shit, I’m kind of disappointed I’m not getting the opportunity to have a stab at it.”

That made Quentin snicker helplessly, because he always appreciated a good pun, even though Eliot usually found them aggravating. Still, to humor him, Eliot would probably say a lot of embarrassing things, and suffer the wrath of Margo because of it. 

“But perhaps I have the strength after all,” Quentin stood, not a tremor to be seen. 

He got up smoothly, every movement perfectly executed in a dramatic display that made Eliot very sure that Quentin was getting his dick sucked after this. He really didn’t want to spend too much time talking, just allowing them time to figure out each other’s buttons all over again, to let them fit together before they had to figure out how it was going to work. 

Eliot really fucking missed that adorable nerd. 

“Drop your sword,” Q pointed his own sword at the Dark King. 

After a few tense seconds, the Dark King actually dropped his sword, just because Quentin had said so. It was such a power move that Eliot wished he could have pulled it off himself. Instead he had to content himself with grabbing the sword and handing it to Quentin while Eliot used the convenient bondage gear in his room to tie up his not quite husband. 

They were really going to have to look into getting that annulled. If it even needed to be annulled, because Eliot still firmly believed that he was not actually married. 

Of course, that was when Margo showed up. “What the hell have you two idiots been up to?”

She always did know how to make an entrance, both Sorrows in her hands, still dripping with blood because Margo knew how to take care of an enemy. She was almost glowing with it, and her radiance was clearly too much for poor Q, who sagged and had to sit down on the bed. Apparently the show of strength had been a bit too much to ask of him. 

“I knew he was bluffing,” the Dark King was far too pleased - only it was too late for him. 

“Can I kill him?” Margo had other priorities. 

Eliot was sorely tempted to let her, even though he knew it would send the entire land into unrest yet again. He was feeling vindictive with the way this man had conspired to kill him, and the way he’d manipulated everyone - even Margo. And Fen! He was furious about what they’d done with Fen. After all of this, they really needed to find her. 

Quentin shook his head. “I want him to live a long life, alone with his cowardice.” 

“Ugh,” Margo groaned, loudly. “You’re too fucking noble. You’re killing me here.” 

Why was he not surprised that this was the route that his Quentin had chosen? He liked the stories of heroes winning over evil, liked the tales where everybody lived. And while that was never going to happen when Margo was around and evil guys were still breathing, it was still so quintessentially Quentin that Eliot did not wish to do anything to change it. 

Margo sighed, obviously disappointed by something. “All that fighting and murdering and he hasn’t even told me where Fen is, yet.”

So Margo was actually going to listen, in the hopes of finally tracking down Fen. Surely the great Margo Hanson could make even the darkest of kings bend to her will. Perhaps she would not even need to unsheathe her blades this time. 

Even though that was just about her favorite thing to do. 

“I might know of a way to help you,” Quentin clearly had some idea as to how to proceed with the rescuing. “How do you feel about piracy?”

* * *

“As it turned out, Margo had a lot of feelings about piracy,” Julia continued. “And they all lived happily ever after, even when a dumbass friend of theirs somehow returned from the grave and spent the entire time rolling his eyes when a brave woman, out of the goodness of her heart, offered to read it to him. Because he was bored.” 

Somehow, Penny had a feeling that she was calling him out. Alright, he was perfectly aware that Julia was once again making fun of him. But he was willing to hold back on his instinctive habit of being a dick about it if she would just continue reading the rest of the book. Because that did not really sound like it was the end. Not just because Julia had directly referenced Penny himself, but because the story was not actually finished yet. 

They hadn’t even found Fen yet. Penny had never met her, but he was pretty sure that Margo would have murdered them all if they didn’t at least try to look for her. So there was no way that the story was ending there, and without a sappy moment between Eliot and Quentin. 

“That’s not the end,” Penny was in no way saying that because he was disappointed. 

“It’s not,” Julia easily admitted, “but you don’t give a shit about romance. It’s pretty much all romance from here on out. I’m not sure you could handle it.”

No, Penny Adiyodi was not the most romantic guy, but that did not mean that he didn’t want to know how it ended. Julia was going to make him say that though, because she was tricky like that. It made him respect her, which was kind of annoying because apparently she had figured out how Penny would respond by screwing his alternate universe counterpart. 

Honestly, what even was his life? 

At least he had a life again, though. That was nice. 

“Just read it to me,” Penny sighed heavily. 

“As you wish,” Julia grinned. “Margo had a lot of feelings about piracy, which she discussed at length with Alice when the other woman returned. They both figured that they needed to leave the Prince and the Pirate alone. They deserved a little privacy for their proper reunion. The true lovers were finally reunited, and finally safe. They could breathe now, and enjoy each other’s company. They could share true love’s kiss once more. It was truly special. Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure, the clearest expression of true love. This one left them all in the dust.”

Yeah, so apparently the Fen thing actually hadn’t been solved yet, but the story still had to end with a kiss and a happily ever after. Even though the writing style was kind of a mess and it was stupidly soppy, Penny hadn’t completely hated listening to Julia read this book to him. 

Not that he was ever going to admit that. To anyone. 

“I regret everything,” Penny hated that sappy shit. 

He didn’t think that was romantic at all. Nope, not at all. 

“Get some sleep,” Julia ordered, even though she was annoyingly gentle about it. “Kady will be back by the time you wake up. She actually missed you, for some reason.”

Penny flipped her off as Julia finished her glass of water, cleared her throat and then started grabbing her things, including the ridiculous book. It was still ornate and heavy and annoyingly romantic, but somehow it had managed to make the time pass a little faster. 

There was still one question that he needed an answer for, though. 

“Hey, Julia?” Penny dared to speak up. 

“Yeah, Penny,” Julia turned around, clinging to the heavy book. 

The hallways were quiet, and Julia was looking at him far too closely for him to be comfortable openly being soft about this fucking book. Still, he was pretty sure that Julia wasn’t actually going to mock him too much for this particular question, because it wasn’t meant to make fun of anyone. For once. It was just an unresolved issue. 

“Has Margo found Fen yet?” Penny just had to know. 

Julia made a face, which Penny took to mean that it hadn’t happened yet. “She will, soon. Alice and I will help her, as soon as Kady’s back to look after your dumb ass.” 

She said it with a smile, and Penny had to turn his head away so that Julia would not see that he too was smiling. He kind of liked that one. He might have actually made a friend here. 

That was new. 

“Shut up,” Penny just had to say it one more time. 

There was a loud sigh, and it wasn’t Julia this time. “Don’t be an asshole, Penny,” 

* * *

There was a book in the Library, a thick heavy tome about a Prince forced to marry a Dark King, and the Pirate who returned from the dead to save him. It was long, the pacing was a mess, there were a stunning amount of epithets, and a lot of talking around feelings. 

The book next to it was much shorter. A thin volume that detailed the quest of a fierce High King searching for her queen. That quest, undertaken by women only, somehow happened a lot more efficiently. It helped that Queen Fen had already taken out a ton of enemies by the time her true love got there, the Blonde and the Goddess in tow. 

Women, they just got shit done. 

THE END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [death cannot stop true love (it can only delay it for awhile)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342158) by [kazzashepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzashepard/pseuds/kazzashepard)




End file.
